


The Crown Jewels

by Weshallc



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-09-05 00:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 54,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16800088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weshallc/pseuds/Weshallc
Summary: Poplar-on-Tweaven is at the other end of England to Poplar, East London. It is also set in the present day, but you may find a lot of familiar friends, usually working or propping up the bar at the heart of the village in the Crown Inn.The Crown has a very full and eclectic Jukebox that can be found on Spotify, a taste of which is given in some chapter headings and opening quotes.Right it’s my round, what’s your tipple.





	1. The Crown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tangledupinmist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangledupinmist/gifts), [H4T08](https://archiveofourown.org/users/H4T08/gifts).



**I’d like to think of me returning when I can, to the greatest little boozer...(Sally MacLennane, The Pogues)**

Sergeant Browne looked out of the panda car windscreen at her colleague PC Noakes. He was pacing up and down in front of the one remaining pub in the small northern village of Poplar-on-Tweaven. Finally her colleagues impatience got the better of him and he started banging on the large polished oak door of the Crown Inn.

Abruptly, an upstairs window flew open and a tousled mess of salt and pepper shaded hair burst through the gap.

"Steady on Peter, it's not seven o'clock yet and you know my licensing restrictions as well as I do."

"Sorry Doc, it's just me and the Sarge here are parched. Since Winnie's caff closed there is nowhere to go for a decent cuppa of a morning."

Sergeant Browne fiddled in the glove compartment of the battenberg police car. Giving the impression she was blissfully unaware of the early morning negotiating taking place. Let alone being the cause of it.

Five minutes later, the heavy wooden door of the Crown swung open with a heave from its current owner. The sign above the door read: Licensee Mr Patrick Turner.  
A tall man standing a little less than 6ft stood beneath his name, wiry in build but carrying the signs of maybe one too many pub lunches and accepting too many offers of, "and get one for yourself, Doc."

Sergeant Browne surveyed the weary looking innkeeper, she had a lot of time for Paddy Turner. The Crown wasn't just the last pub in Poplar but the thin pulse at the heart of a fading community. It's landlord was much more than a publican, he was a community leader, parish councillor and punter counsellor. That's why a lot of the regulars called him Doc, he was always there to diagnose and soothe the villagers ills. He was also rumoured to be the proud owner of a PhD, but no-one knew in what. If asked the jovial bartender would just answer; "Life, University of Hard Knocks."

Camilla Browne had promised herself that one-day she would try and find out a little bit more about this middle-aged man's past. The more pressing matters of maintaining law and order in the district with her trusty sidekick PC Noakes had unfortunately intervened. Paddy like herself wasn't a local, but unlike her home-counties public school tone, his accent was soft, but pointed to the other side of the Pennines, across the backbone of England.

The educational accolade probably wasn't just an anecdote either. Camilla found the Doc to be a quietly intelligent man. Most landlords had a wealth of knowledge, able to converse on a multitude of subjects, it was a requirement of the job. Paddy Turner wasn't just knowledgeable but also possessed wisdom. Camilla had been a police officer long enough to know the two were not interchangeable. The former being easily acquired, the latter sadly often in short supply.

Once inside the 19th century alehouse, the two law enforcers perched on a plush red topped bar stool each. Peter sat square on top with his feet resting on the black painted iron footrests. Camilla gently resting her bum on the velvet, legs outstretched at an angle. Defying 6ft in height the thirty-something felt uncomfortable perched on that particular piece of furniture; even though made of iron she still felt insecure even just leaning against the seat.  
"It will have to be tea," informed their host, "I haven't got the coffee machine set up yet," he yawned, "Unless you want Aldi's finest instant?"

"Tea, please," the officers offered up in unison.

Paddy enquired if the pair would like their tea at a table, but Sergeant Browne insisted they were quite comfortable at the bar for the duration of their flying visit.

"If you say so Chummy," Paddy gave in.

Peter cringed, Camilla had been known as Chummy as long as anyone could remember. First Constable Chummy and now Sergeant Chummy or Sergeant Browne when the gravity of the situation demanded it. Peter was in fact the only person to use Camilla's given name. Most times she was just Sarge or even Ma-am, but off duty and in his thoughts she was always Camilla. He couldn't understand how such a beautiful goddess of a woman could be known as Chummy. Camilla was such a lovely name, for the loveliest creature he had ever seen. _Camilla sounded like blossoms, fragrance, tropical islands, galaxies, honey, ambrosia..._

Peter's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of stainless steel against china. Paddy was clinking a teaspoon against a sugar bowl. He was staring at him and so was Camilla.

"Two please," answered a confused Constable, hoping he had got the question right.  
Sufficiently replenished, the law left to heed the call of yet another tractor theft on a local farm. Paddy looked at the oversized clock opposite the bar, he had it set a few minutes fast to help with last orders, but it was still telling him his son was running late.

"Tim, you are going to miss your bus," the anxious father yelled through the door that opened onto the stairs that led to the father and son's living quarters.

A few minutes later just as Paddy was about to bellow a second warning, the teenager arrived. Wiry like his father with the same mess of dark hair, that Paddy wanted to push out of his son's eyes. Experience of being on both sides of that argument stopped him, the hair always won.

The school bus, that would take Tim to his sixth-form in the neighbouring town of Cholmondelely and the village youngsters to schools in the market town of Appleby Thornton, wouldn't wait forever. Dolly Smart, who had driven the bus as long as Timothy had been educated in the borough, knew her passengers well and was always patient with stragglers. It was in the best interest of both parent and child to try and prevent the late departure of the bus. Whatever delay Dolly encountered in the villages and small towns she visited, she somehow always succeeded in dropping the kids off in good time for first bell. Camilla and Peter made certain that they were never on the school bus route between the hours of 8 and 9am and again between 3 and 4pm. They really didn't need the extra paperwork.

He watched his son head for the war memorial that acted as the village’s unofficial bus-stop. It seemed strange seeing his son off to school in jeans and a washed-out Iron Maiden T-shirt, he wondered what the boy's mother would have said. He remembered buying Tim his first school uniform, she had been so excited and took enough photos to fill the MIMA gallery. Unfortunately Marianne Turner had never got to see Tim in his final school uniform, cancer had made sure of that. Paddy shivered, the sun not yet fully risen he presumed the reason. He was left staring aimlessly at the back of the fading school bus.

"Penny for them, Paddy," a soft heavily accented voice belonging north of the border broke through his reverie.

"Just that it's about time the mornings were getting lighter and the night's shorter," he offered vaguely as way of explanation. Then as if someone had suddenly lifted a switch, he turned and with a wide smile greeted his first regular of the day.  
"Good morning Bernie, the usual is it? The porridge should just about be done."


	2. Pat-A-Manger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brose is a Scots word for a porridge or oatmeal dish made with hot water and served with either milk, butter and/or salt. Pret A Manger is a London founded now international coffee and snack chain. The Crown Inn Poplar-on-Tweaven serves breakfast 7 days a a week from 9am to 11am. (Hot drinks and top-ups included, if you ask nicely)

**Gie my love brose brose, Gie my love brose and butter. (Brose and Butter, Robert Burns)**

Shelagh Bernadette Mannion made herself comfortable at her usual table. She flipped through her work diary with care, even though she knew exactly what she had planned for the day. Paddy brought out her porridge from the pub kitchen, followed by a pot of tea, a jar of honey and a jug of milk.

He fetched two mugs as he was accustomed to. Bernie had become his first regular customer of the day, shortly after her father had died. Ever since he had spotted her on an early morning walk, after a sleepless night. He had invited her in and they had shared stories about the village's much mourned church minister. After that she seemed to be passing most mornings just as Paddy was opening the inn doors. Once Bernie had found full-time work, breakfast became a regular thing. Bernie, more used to early morning London than early morning rural Yorkshire, started calling him Pat-A-Manger.

Paddy liked to sit and relax and take tea with her. Indulging himself before the day got started for real and the Crown creaked into action. Violet would arrive soon and set to work in the tiny pub kitchen, followed by Jack. A pal of Tim's, whom Paddy had taken on, after a nudge from Sergeant Chummy, when he had dropped out of sixth form. Jack helped Vi in the kitchen and though too young to work behind the bar, he made a good glass collector and waiter.

The Crown didn't start serving breakfast officially until nine, but Paddy always got the porridge going early for Bernie.

"Busy day?" He asked gesturing at her diary, Bernie nodded a smile.

"How is it going? It's nice to see you smiling again, that's all," he said, spooning sugar into his tea.

The smile he was referring to suddenly disappeared and a frown started to appear between Bernie's ice blue eyes.

"Not that you were ever miserable," Paddy was backpedalling now, "I just meant you seem more settled since you started working for Crane Carers. Less restless."

Bernie relaxed and the captivating smile returned, "I do like working for Phyll, even though she is a hard taskmaster," Bernie gave Paddy a cheeky grin, stirring honey into her porridge. "I have learnt so much from her in the last few weeks. I had never thought of working in the care industry, but I am finding it so rewarding." Bernie added some more honey to her bowl. "Phyllis really is a life-saver; it's given me a focus and some extra money before I return to London."

"Well you looked after your dad very well from what I saw. I would give you a reference any day," Paddy reassured her and then added, "I am so glad you decided to stay on, at least in the meantime." He paused and gave his tea an extra stir, "It can't have been easy having to move out of the Manse, when Reverend Julia arrived."

"Well it is not like she threw me out Paddy, she was more than kind to me," Bernie interjected quickly, "The house does come with the job and Poplar needed a new vicar once Dad had gone." Bernie took a gulp of tea and reached again for the honey pot, "My role at the church has never really been official and of course Julia wanted her own team around her." The visitor stirred a drop of milk into the hot oat mixture. "There is never just one way to be of service," Bernie's voice seemed to fade a little the more she talked.

Paddy could only offer, "Indeed," feeling outside his comfort zone. Bernie fell silent as she ate her breakfast. Paddy looked into his mug for inspiration.

Her life had changed beyond recognition over the last year. She had returned to the North-East on discovering her father's illness and nursed him for a few too short months before a second stroke finally took him. Her intention had always been to return to the inner-city mission where she had worked for the last 6 years, but somehow she never had.

It was around this time that Phyllis Crane RGN, sold the private independent care home she had developed in an old manor house on the outskirts of the village. A national company jealous of its reputation had snapped it up for an undisclosed sum. Matron Crane had used part of that money to set up a small care firm based in and around Poplar.

The area's population was growing older, more recent generations migrating to the larger towns and cities. Many of the remaining population were falling through the community care gap. Their life savings prevented them from receiving benefits that would qualify them for free or subsidized homecare packages. With their families no longer based locally, there was a demand for affordable care in the region. Enabling people to stay in their own homes, that in some cases had been handed down the family line for decades. Matron Crane banded together a couple of her most valued care home staff and formed Crane Carers in a hope to bridge that gap.

Phyllis had a strong social conscience and did not only feel a sense of duty towards the sick and the elderly. Poplar born and bred, she had always involved herself in the youth initiatives within the parish. Patrick Turner, Reverend Wilf Mannion and herself were on the Parish council. Not one of them had ever needed to canvas for a vote when it was time for re-election, as they were well respected and supported fully by the constituency. They all stood Independently, so there weren't any hard party lines dividing them. None of them were interested in who sat in 10 Downing Street, as whoever it was, wouldn't have Poplar in their heart, like these three did.

The Matron was devastated when Wilf died. They had been good friends and allies and even foes at times. She had helped Bernie care for him at home in the Manse. She could see the young woman was at some sort of crossroads in her life and it was Phyllis who persuaded Bernie to stay on. Encouraging her to keep the church going, until Wilf's replacement arrived. When it was clear that there wouldn't be any full time work for Bernie within the church, Phyllis had offered her a job working for her. She funded and facilitated Bernie's training and provided a car hire scheme. She also gave this somewhat lost soul a room in her cottage, when the Mannion family home became the home of another.

Innkeeper and carer finished their tea discussing in turn, Paddy's expected regulars and Bernie's scheduled visits, discovering some villagers they would both serve. Then Paddy watched Bernie Mannion get into her abandoned little white Ford Ka, standing solitary in the small pub car park. His thoughts started to wander,

 _She really suits those smart blue uniforms Phyll has chosen. They compliment the striking blue of her eyes, so much more obvious today not hidden beneath her glasses. She must be trying the contact lenses out again,_ he mused.

Not that he minded the specs, they were almost her signature look, the light reflecting off the glass making her eyes look wider and brighter. Her honey blonde hair that looked more auburn in the morning light was swept up in a neat clip, instead of her more casual look, unfussy just resting on her shoulders.A navy waspy belt clung jealousy to her tiny waist, matching the dark stockings. _Or more than likely they will be tights, that would be more practical,_ Paddy thought.

"Er Mr T, erm do you want me to start filling the salt sellers and clean-up the sauce bottles?" Paddy jumped. He hadn't heard Jack come in from the kitchen entrance.

_Oh god, had he seen me staring at Bernie Mannion's legs, what if he tells Tim? My son would be grossed out. How old is Bernie - a little over 30?_

But Jack didn't look horrified or even amused, just bored and awkward, like he did most of the time. Paddy nodded and Jack shuffled off to fetch the wet-wipes.


	3. Bernie's Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So the Crown is a lot of fun, but there is a story hidden in there. I wanted to look at Sr Bernadette's conflict as she begins to doubt her certainty that the path she has been on is the same one God intends for her. To make this even more complicated I wanted to look at that from the experience of a modern day Shelagh, a woman with a committed faith, but also very much 21st century. Meet Bernie...

**If all you’ve got to prove today is your innocence. Calm down, you’re as guilty as can be. (Road Rage, Catatonia)**

_"I've been keeping up with my offices whilst on duty Sister" Sister Bernadette series 2 episode 4._

Bernie drove her little Ford Ka she called Cynthia around the corner just out of view of the public house. She pulled up sharply and reached behind her to the back seat and dragged forwards a small bottle of coke. She unscrewed the black top and downed about half the contents, finishing with a swipe of the mouth and a rather large burp.

The little yellow bear hanging from her rear-view mirror smiled at her, the acronym WWJD enblazened accross his chest. Bernie couldn't quite remember when she had started using the time between calls to pray. She supposed it was when she was initially entrusted with her own clients and asked for courage and compassion. She was also painfully aware that her daily Quiet Times, which had been part of her morning routine since a child, were now less consistent.

She more than often rushed in a quick bible verse and prayer while getting dried from her shower and putting on her uniform, knowing that Paddy would be waiting with her breakfast. She wasn't sure why, but since moving in with Phyllis and starting a regular job, she hadn't been able to build-up a disciplined routine. It was something she had always instinctively done to enable her function efficiently.

Bernie also didn't know, when she had started to look at the little yellow bear when praying, as if he was suddenly going to pass on a word of wisdom from her Lord. It seemed completely ridiculous, but she couldn't take him down, he had been a gift from the Mission. They had all clubbed together to get her a keepsake, when she had left to nurse her dad, mission work had never been well paid. It reminded her of the congested roads, overcrowded streets, impersonal Tube, the stale city smells and one footed greedy pigeons of home; or at least what she had thought once to be her home.

The bear kept smiling. Bernie spoke out loud, "Yes, I did say that today would be the day I told him I dinna like porridge."

She screwed the top back onto the plastic bottle and tossed it over her shoulder onto the back seat. Bernie was still musing over her unexplained powerlessness to tell a perfectly reasonable man that she hated porridge, when a change in traffic light stopped her. First in the queue on the slip road to her first call, Bernie repeated a mantra her late father had taught her as a child.

"Speak only what is true, what is necessary and what is kind." She nodded at the bear.

"True; I dinna like porridge," Bernie nodded, "But is it necessary to tell him?" Bernie tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, "Not strictly, I manage," she informed the bear.

"Is it kind?" more tapping, "Of course not, he will feel a right wee fanny, I cannae tell him after all this time." Bernie smiled triumphantly at the bear.

Bernie glanced to her right, a flash looking car had pulled up beside her waiting to continue on the main road to Appleby Thornton. Bernie was no petrolhead, she had passed her test at the fourth time of asking at 23. She hadn't driven at all in London, the Mission not paying enough to afford the privilege and the London Transport system equal to her needs. The main thing she noticed was that the top was down on the convertible. Very optimistic thought Bernie. The driver was staring right at her, a big cheesy grin written all over his face.

"What the...what?" Bernie blushed.

_I suppose he isnae too bad looking, if yer like that sort of thing. Why is he staring, oh no, he saw me talking to the bear, he thinks I am unhinged. No, no, no everyone talks to themselves in their cars these days, I could be on hands free._

She stole another glance, he was still smirking.

_I will pick up my mobile to show him it's a call to another human being. But what if Chummy sees me? She will have to arrest me and that would be awkward as my pal. I know, I will pretend I am singing._

Bernie pressed shuffle on her Deezify App and started to sing along animatedly to one of her favourite songs.

"Ooh ooh I see God in you, ooh ooh I see God in you..," Josh Wilson kept right on singing, Bernie stopped abruptly,

_Now he not only thinks I am a nutter, but a religious nutter at that. He is still smiling, not a nice smile like Paddy Turner. Who looks at you like you have just handed him a ticket with the winning lottery numbers on, even before 8 of a morning. No that's more of a smirk, makes you feel stupid. Paddy's smile makes you feel special._

"What are you doing Shelagh Bernadette! This is ridiculous he has a son half your age. Ah ken yer lonely, but yer surely not desperate!" She exclaimed out loud.

The lights finally changed to amber, Bernie glanced at the other driver who winked at her as he adjusted his feet on the pedals. Bernie screamed,

"Yes you just piss right off pal, jog on yer wee muppet!" She stalled the car in anger and embarrassment. Car horns impatiently chorused behind her.

Bernie mouthed, "Sorry," towards Cynthia's rear-view mirror.

The little yellow teddy was still smiling.


	4. Death by Porridge

**You should come to no harm, on the animal farm in the country. (Country House, Blur)**

Bernie drove through the giant iron gates of Bagnall Hall on the outskirts of Poplar, the ancestral home of the 19th century iron masters the Keville family. She took a final swig of her cola and left her car. She headed not for the great stately home in front of her, but instead for the old gatehouse to the side.

The Keville's now lived in Chelsea and the Hall was a museum and wedding venue. One Keville refused to leave her family seat. Some villagers thought she had rather unceremoniously been relocated in the old gatehouse, shamefully for such a great Lady. Others concluded at least she was still in the grounds of the stately home, but in somewhere easier to manage and warmer. Bernie was of the later opinion and pushed open the cottage door announcing her arrival.

"Antonia, it's Bernie."

"Ernie who?" Came the bewildered reply.

"Bernie, your carer Bernadette Mannion," came the clarity. "I've come to make your breakfast and give you a shower."

"I've already had a bath and am fully dressed," declared the feisty nonagenarian, sat in a well worn dark green leather Chesterfield against the living room window.

"You and your family pay me to help you with that, it's not safe Antonia."

The immaculately dressed and well groomed grand lady, looked Bernie up and down and replied, "Have you brought cake?"

Bernie explained that she had. As usual courtesy of the landlord of the Crown, who knew Lady Keville was Bernie's first call and always made sure she left the pub with a little sweetness. Not for the first time Bernie wondered how the Crown made any money giving away desserts. She knew Paddy didn’t charge the local constabulary for their unofficial breaks and he refused to take money from her. Even though she left a £2 coin under her bowl each day, she knew it should be more, but didn't want to offend him. She also knew the money was viewed as a tip and was put straight in Val's tip tin, even though the barmaid didn't start until well after Bernie had left.

"Antonia you can't have cake for breakfast again, it's not healthy."

"What is it?"

"Death by Chocolate."

"What?"

"Chocolate cake."

Bernie, went into Antonia's chaotic kitchen to find some clean crockery, the defiant woman shouted after her, "What did you have for breakfast?"

Bernie giggled to herself under her breath, "Death by Porridge."

Antonia indignantly shouted after her, "They take you away for talking to yourself."

Bernie retorted quicker than she intended, "Well, I will be the first they come for, in that case."

"I thought you'd gone to be a nun in London or some other god forsaken place."

Bernie sighed, coming back into the living room with two tea plates stacked with one of Vi's delicious gooey and most definitely wicked creations and two silver pastry forks.

"A missionary, Antonia."

"Then why are you here?"

"I keep asking myself that very same question."

Bernie got back into Cynthia and let out a deep sigh, Lady Keville was her favourite client, but not her easiest. In her more lucid moments she told some absorbing stories about the Poplar residents and history of the village. Born between the two wars, she was an archive to a world long lost even in a sleepy little place like Poplar-on-Tweaven.

Bernie looked at her diary again, more out of habit than necessity. Her eyes focused on the final call of the day, way cross town at Mount Busby Farm. She always left the farm to the end of the day as her work there was not essential. As with Antonia, she often lingered there longer than her care skills required. This time listening to the enthralling tales of 1960's and 70's London as told by Delia Busby and sometimes embellished by the other resident of what once was Kenilworth Farm, the fabulous enigmatic Patience Mount.

No-one seemed to recall when the pair had arrived in Poplar, they had always seemed to be there, but that couldn't be so. Like Bernie and Paddy, they weren't natives, Delia still maintained an accent more suited to the Welsh valleys. Patsy could have read the news on the BBC in the 1950's, if a woman would have ever been entrusted with such a responsibility.

A quick google search revealed that Patsy had quite the Wikipedia page. Born in Singapore into a privileged background, she had suffered great personal tragedy as a prisoner of war as a child. Returning to her English heritage, she later completed her education at Goldsmiths' College around the same time as Mary Quant. She was spotted by an up and coming clothes designer at a college show. Patsy would go on to model for Mary and later Vivienne Westwood. Bored with that life, she returned to her first love of art becoming a notable painter, but more renowned as a conceptual artist and sculptor in various mediums. Opinion was greatly divided in the art world the year when Mount was controversially denied the coveted Turner Prize.

Bernie had learnt, not from Wiki, but from Delia that the couple had met when Delia was completing her nurse training in the capital and Patsy was admitted to the London. The reasons for which Delia had never expanded upon and Bernie had never sought clarification.

Eventually they had moved to the Yorkshire countryside where Patsy could create in peace and Delia set up a small holding. Mount Busby turned out to be a prosperous enterprise in the world of market garden.

The couple or “Two Loves” as Matron Crane called them, were now in their 80's and the market garden had been reduced to a small allotment and a few chickens. They no longer supplied businesses like they used to, but the locals were loyal and of course so was the Crown. Let's not forget the Alpacas.

Aware that the market garden was running down, Delia spotted an opportunity and bought a herd of Alpacas. They were easy to care for and became a hit with the locals and much further afield than Delia envisioned. They paid for themselves by Delia charging people to walk them along the banks of the Tweaven. Articles in the Guardian and on the breakfast television show Too Early for Telly, had highlighted the therapeutic effects of these gentle giants.

Eager visitors would pay generously to walk the hairy beasts through the countryside followed by a small soiree at the farm. Even better, if Patsy was in the mood, they would throw in an audience with a local celebrity and charge a bit more. If a few of Patsy's recent creations were sold after a few bottles of fizz and Buckle Ale got involved, the evening turned out to be a nice little earner.

Delia didn't have to leave the farm, lots of villagers were happy to lead the walks. The person she trusted the most was Reggie, the nephew of the owner of Buckle Breweries. As well as working for his uncle he loved the alpacas and they loved him.


	5. My Crown is in My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, whether you are very welcome newcomers to the Crown or much valued regulars paying another visit.
> 
> Let's see if we can catch the barmaids eye and get a round in, she seems a bit distracted to me.

**He doesn’t look a thing like Jesus, but he talks like a gentleman.(When You Were Young, The Killers.)**

_My crown is in my heart, not on my head. (Henry VI, William Shakespeare)_

Bernie sat perched on a stool at the bar of the Crown, feet dangling tapping against the iron stem. She rhythmically stirred her diet coke with her candy striped straw, chasing the slice of lemon around the straight glass.

Tim and Jack were playing darts a few feet away and Paddy and Val were deep in conversation behind the bar. Bernie wasn't really taking much notice until she heard Val exclaim impatiently,

"But Paddy you know I can't do Tuesday night, I have a date."

This statement didn't just catch Bernie's attention, but the darts game seemed to suddenly come to a halt.

Bernie couldn't help herself, "Who with?"

Val looked at her mobile phone, "Conrad 29, Executive from Appleby Thornton, 6ft 2, eyes of blue, blonde, drives an Audi convertible, likes squash, circuit training, dogs and Emmerdale."

A cacophony of laughter erupted from the oche mat where the two teenagers stood. It was so infectious Bernie couldn't suppress a giggle. Only Paddy wasn't smiling.

"Haven't we talked about this Valerie?" he asked in a sombre tone.

"No, you talked Patrick, I pretended to listen." She saw by the look on his face she had better soften the cheek. "Everyone dates online now, it's how you meet people. I've been doing it for years."

"And you're still single," Paddy almost yelled in delight, "Works like a bloody charm, obviously." Bernie stuffed her straw into her mouth to stop her from laughing as loud as the boys were.

"Some people are not looking for Mr Right Paddy," Val hissed, "Just Mr Right Now."

"Well I am the only _Mister_ round here _right now_ and those glasses need washing."

Val ignored her boss and passed her phone to Bernie, "What do you think?" Bernie took the mobile tentatively and nodded, "Very nice," Paddy glared at her and for some reason she felt compelled to add, "If you like that sort of thing."

"That is exactly the kind of thing I do like," Val giggled. Bernie thought the photograph looked familiar, but she couldn't place it, but it was something about the odd smile. He looked a lot younger than 29, probably an old photo, she assumed.

Bernie had never been a keen pub goer. When she had lived in Poplar, previously to going to London, she was too involved with the church. Working at the mission they had their own building where they hung out most of the time. It was on her return to Poplar she found herself spending most of her spare time at the Crown. Perched on the stool that was really too high for her, but she liked the feeling of being like a kid again and dangling her feet. She didn't know what attracted her to the pub, she supposed there was nowhere else to go. She didn't want Reverend Julia to think she was checking up on her at the church all the time.

Apart from on the weekends the pub was mainly quiet, just a few regulars popping in at intervals for a swift one. These were the times she liked best, Paddy and Val scoring points off each other behind the bar, Tim and Jack ribbing each other at darts. Vi would often come through from the kitchen if there weren't any diners and always have some village gossip to impart in a humorous manner. She thought it odd how at home she felt, in such a foreign environment. Part of this peculiar dysfunctional family assembled around her and wondered what role she played.

Vi was like a favourite aunt, always making sure Bernie had been fed. Tim and Jack probably younger brothers or nephews, she enjoyed their chatter and bad jokes. Val was like a favourite cousin who kept her amused and always seemed pleased to see her. And Paddy, where did he fit in?

He could be very paternal towards the much younger Val, which she knew annoyed the barmaid immensely. But Bernie was a few years older than Val and she definitely didn't see Paddy as a father figure. He had never patronized her, the way she knew Val thought he sometimes did her, although he always meant well. Paddy never did anything that wasn't well meaning, Bernie concluded.

Tim had come to the bar and had opened the pub laptop, "Why don't you check if you've got any hits Dad?" Bernie was stunned and she looked at Paddy.

"Tim and someone," he looked accusingly at Val, who was still looking at Conrad, "signed me up for Val's lovelorn site," Paddy confessed sheepishly. Bernie's straw clumsily fell out of her mouth.

Jack was over to the bar in a flash. He looked over his mate's shoulder, "You've got loads of emails Mr T, 3256 unopened."

"They are all spam and why are you looking at my emails Tim? How did you get on there?"

"Dad if I didn't look at your emails you wouldn't have a clue who was trying to get in touch with you."

"How did you guess my password?" Tim just rolled his eyes in response.

"You have 23 pending notifications from Val's dating site." Tim declared.

Jack couldn't help himself, "Probably all Val."

"That's enough," Paddy growled, "Delete my profile. Now!"

"Dad I will be going to Uni soon, I am not staying around this dump forever."

"Charming!" Interjected everyone except Bernie, Paddy noticed.

"You need a woman, someone to look after you, read your emails when I am gone."

"Yes, that's exactly what women are for," said Vi coming in from the kitchen with a bowl of chunky chips for everyone to share. "He is right mind, you could do with a nice lass," she added.

"Couldn't agree more," added Val," How about you Bernie?"

Bernie blushed the colour of the crimson stool cushion she was sat on, even in places she didn't know could feel so flushed so quickly. She looked into her fizzy pop for help.

"We could fix you up now," Val continued. Bernie didn't dare look at Paddy, surely he was as embarrassed as her, why didn't he say something.

Suddenly he did. "Bernie does not want or need to sign up to your pulling site."

Bernie sighed, she had misunderstood. She dared now to look up. Val would not be put off and was firing questions at her.

Eventually Bernie confessed, "Val, I don't think it's for me."

Val would not give up, proclaiming it was for everyone. "Yes, but I believe that if I am to meet someone it will be more, more naturally," she struggled to speak.

"Hear, hear," said Paddy, "Spoken like a true romantic," he winked and Bernie coloured again.

Val was having none of it and started flinging questions at Bernie; age, height, hair colour, are you a natural blonde?

"Val, you see I am looking for something specific." Bernie said. It was Val's turn to wink, "Aren't we all," she smirked. Paddy groaned.

"You see Val," Bernie was determined to continue, "I have never been out with a lad that didn't go to church, it is important to me that the person I might share the rest of my life with, shares my beliefs too."

Her words were measured and she circled the tip of her straw around the rim of her glass and then added much more hasty, "I couldnae imagine going out with anyone who didnae feel the same level of commitment."

The bar fell silent for a minute, Bernie sucked on her straw. Paddy fidgeted with a Buckle’s Brewery bar towel, as if he was trying to remove a stain with his thumb and fore finger. Vi stopped writing the word Parmo on the specials board. Even the boys were not amused by this and both flicked at the flights of their darts. It was as if everyone felt the gravity of Bernie's statement and understood they needed to give her a minute to recover. But only a minute.

"Religion, you can include that in your profile. There is even a special dating site, just for your type." Val was triumphant.

Bernie felt sick. Paddy had had enough.

"Right, Vi would you mind getting me a cuppa, Tim you have homework outstanding I presume, Jack ashtrays in the beer garden need emptying. Valerie if you have time to lean, you have time to clean." He barked orders like a sergeant major and the troops knew he wasn't joking and scuttled off in different directions.

He casually picked up the soft drinks dispensing gun and shot another dose of coke in Bernie's glass. She protested but he insisted it was on the house.

"Would you like a shot of something stronger in there?" he asked.

A smile finally appeared on Bernie's lips, "Maybes at the weekend," she hinted.

Paddy sat in the Crown's beer garden, the pub was quiet and Val had made it quite clear she could manage perfectly well without him. He took a long drag on his Strawberry Sensation vape pen, but it didn't seem to ease his mind.

The night had come in and the Great Bear seemed to be winking at him. Marianne had known all the constellations and the proper names. He only knew the main ones like everyone else. She had also known how it all planned out astrologically too.

He couldn't help but smile at himself, but he also felt a flash of shame sweep across his heart. After she had died he had thrown every last angel card, crystal, candle, oil burner and wind charm into the bin. He had sent the scores of self help books to the Save the Pensioner charity shop. It had all resulted from a huge fit of rage or more like grief, while Timothy had been at school. The boy had noticed the lack of anything stinky, twinkly or tinkly in the flat, but never once asked where his mother's belongings had gone.

It had made Paddy feel better for about an hour. Just like when he had sneered at the glut of well meaning Get Well Cards and threatened to march into Clintons and demand well meaning people's money back. They hadn't worked, nothing had, not the orthodox medicine he had insisted on or the unorthodox healing Mazz had preferred. She had believed in charts and mantras and positive thinking, he found it endearing in his best moments and unfathomable in his worst.

Marianne Parker had believed it in all, but it hadn't stopped her loving him and eventually marrying the card carrying sceptic. It hadn't stopped Paddy adoring her and committing his future to the lovable fruitcake either.

But tonight he couldn't get Bernie Mannion out of his mind. He was aware of how difficult she had found explaining her preferences earlier. He wouldn't class her as particularly shy, she was definitely more reserved than Val, but who wasn't. She would often think before she spoke, considering her answers, which Paddy admired. Most of the people he came into contact with regularly did just the opposite, rarely thinking before they spoke. He realized he thought of her as confident with a dry wit. She often would sit giggling at the bar at Val or Tim and Jack and then quietly add something which sometimes went over the boy's heads, but would crack him up. Paddy all to easily recalled her giggle, it really was infectious.

Tonight however she had been so serious, as if it had been really important for her to make herself understood. Mazz had believed in angels and spirits, he believed in human kindness, fair play and justice, as for any force behind that, maybe just evolution, survival instinct or some vague spirit of humanity, he wasn't sure. He had loved Marianne inspite and sometimes even because of her unconventional beliefs. Mazz had loved him despite his frustrating agnosticism, as she wasn't afraid to put a name to it.

If he had heard her right, Bernie was saying she couldn't let herself fall in love with someone who didn't love God the way she did. Paddy thought that might just be the saddest thing he had ever heard, because Paddy didn't love God the way Bernie did, but he might just be starting to fall in love with Bernadette Mannion.


	6. The Two Loves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello again. Everyone in Poplar-on-Tweaven is a similar age to their alter egos in Poplar, London. Apart from Tim and Jack are 17 at the start of the Turnadette romance and Lucille is younger than 25 as she is in 1963 (interesting).  
> The most obvious deviation from this is Delia and Patsy, for some reason they are the age their counterparts would be today. I think I just wanted to write a happy ending for our Two Loves and this was my chance.

**You'll be older too, and if you say the word, I could stay with you. (When I'm Sixty-Four, Lennon and McCartney)**

"158/95 that's definitely a little better," declared Bernie as she freed Delia Busby from the blood pressure cuff, before being interrupted by a loud crash from an adjoining room.

"Damn, blast and buggery!" Filtered through the thick walls of the farmhouse.

"I am so sorry nurse, it's Patsy," Delia explained rather needlessly to Bernie, "She always gets like this when she is starting a new piece."

"No need to apologize at all, you should hear some of the things I say when I am inside Cynthia" Bernie confessed.

Delia looked rather confused, but continued. "It's a rather special piece as well."

"Oh," began Bernie, "What is she making?"

"Pottery, she is working with clay. Not very exciting but she said she wanted to feel the earth move again at our age." It was Bernie's turn to look confused.

"I thought she had started working with Whitby jet more recently?"

"She has. But this is something special, it is for our anniversary."

"Oh, really that's brilliant, how many years is that then?" Bernie asked.

When Delia told Bernie it was her and Patsy's 60th year of being a couple, she was completely taken aback. She knew the pair had been together since somewhere in the mists of last century, but she had never bothered to do the maths. Bernie was eager to know what Patsy was making Delia,

"She thinks I don't know, but I am pretty sure it's going to be a jug."

Bernie was a little underwhelmed and Delia could tell, she tried to hide it.

"Well hopefully a diamond encrusted one, aye," laughed Bernie.

"I don't mind if it is, but I know it will have a pink rose on it."

Bernie asked how Delia could be so sure of the design. The small Welsh woman glowed with delight and pointed to the thick window sill of the farmhouse parlour, in which they were situated. On it stood a rather unremarkable jug, in pride of place in the centre, full of white carnations and chrysanthemums. It was a hexagonal design with an ornate handle glazed in white with a pink rose in the centre. It certainly didn't look like a sought after Patience Mount.

"It's lovely, so it is," started Bernie.

Delia let out a deep giggle, "It's not her best, is it?"

Delia explained that the jug had been one of Patsy's first commissioned pieces of work, but unfortunately the commission had fallen through. She had been about to smash it when Delia had intervened and soothed Patsy and they had shared their first kiss. The jug had been precious to them both ever since.

"She has always promised to make me a more modern version, but I have been more than happy with that one."

Bernie felt herself tear up and was unable to reply for a while. When she did, she decided to find out the answer to something that had been nagging at her for a while,

"Miss Busby, can I ask you a question of a somewhat personal nature?"

"Delia, cariad. If you can call her Ladyship up in Ironopolis Towers, Antonia, there is no need to stand on ceremony with an old nurse."

"Please then call me Bernie, you always call me Nurse and it embarrasses me especially from you, when I haven't any claim to that title."

"I will be the judge of that," reprimanded the retired nursing sister gently, "But go on with your question Bernie."

Bernie sat on the settee beside Delia and tried to find the right words, "Why have you and Patsy never married?"

"That is a good question cariad, we thought about it, talked about it many times, but decided it was not for us."

"But you and Patsy campaigned for years for equal rights. Patsy wrote some incredible articles in the press. Her artwork alone is synonymous with the campaign and marches. I don't understand. You won, you achieved your goal, so why not rejoice in it?"

The elderly woman smiled the sweetest of smiles through her small bow lips. She gently took Bernie's smooth hand in her own, ravaged by years of constant washing and gardening.

"Pats and I campaigned for many things in our time and saw many changes over the last 60 years, great changes, some if I am honest I didn't expect to see. We campaigned not just for gay rights, but women's rights and wherever we felt there was injustice or marginalization."

Bernie was captivated by the older lady's memories as she always was when Delia reminisced, "I hadn't realized the extent of your influence."

Delia smiled, "Patsy has always used her fame for good and as a vehicle to correct injustice, it's one of the reasons I love her so much, but not the only one. There are too many reasons for me to ever record."

Bernie smiled and her eyes began to moisten again. Delia had not finished, "We supported the campaign for female equality within the armed forces, but that doesn't mean I will be joining the Welsh Guards anytime soon, my lovely."

Bernie started for a moment then exploded in a fit of giggles, joined by Delia's deeper laughter, her shoulders shaking.

"You campaign for the right, you campaign for the choice, you campaign for the freedom." Delia had a firm grip on the young woman's hand now and was looking into her eyes. "The freedom to choose to exercise your rights and also the freedom to choose not to."

Bernie sat very still. Delia added, "We had the freedom to choose not to exercise that particular right, because neither of us are particularly religious and I hate paperwork and it means even less to Patsy." Bernie nodded. "That is what we told your father when he visited, asking firstly if we would like a blessing and later a ceremony when the law changed."

"My father? I had no idea," Bernie gasped. "He was a good man your father, a very good man, he always meant well. I like to think if there is a god, he has a bit of your da in him."

Bernie smiled. Surely Delia had meant to say, _your da has a bit of god in him_ , but she let it go. The carer left the farm with more questions than when she had entered, she needed to clear her head.

It was Tuesday, the night that Val had off to check if the latest profile photo matched the real thing. Bernie usually avoided the Crown on a Tuesday. This particular second night of the week though, Delia Busby had somehow scooped her way into Bernie's consciousness. Like a small plastic spoon through a screwball ice cream tub and Bernie had yet to find the much sought after surprise bubblegum of truth hidden in the bottom.

She entered the desolate pub and headed for the bar. A lone figure stood behind the bar and was meticulously drying a pint glass. Bernie approached the tall thin bartender. She took a deep breath and said,

"Gin and tonic, please Ursula."

The relief barmaid glared at her and asked,

"Is that a double?"

Bernie really only wanted a single, she was not a big drinker, but just felt the need after a challenging day. "Yes."

"Ice?"

"Yes."

"Lemon?"

"Yes."

"Slimline or ordinary?"

"Slimline."

Ursula methodically arranged the gin and tonic.

"Please can I add my own tonic?" Bernie interjected.

Ursula's responsive stare told Bernie she had really overstepped the mark. Ursula authoritatively placed the two parts of a mixer on the Buckle’s Brewery bar towel.

"£4:50." She demanded.

Bernie rather awkwardly managed to remove one of the new style "bouncy" fivers from her purse and handed it to Ursula. The barmaid took it held it up to the light and then moved towards the till.

"Keep the change," chirped Bernie.

"I will put the 50 pence in Valerie's tip box."

"Brilliant," said Bernie, "Could I trouble you for a straw, Ursula?"

"Straws are for soft drinks only," she responded.

Bernie made her way to the Crown beer garden. It was still a little early in the year to sit outside of an evening, but with Ursula behind the bar there was quite a chill inside the pub. The Crown was situated on a slight incline and the back of the pub looked out over the countryside as far as the Cleveland Hills. The sun was making its way behind them creating a rather splendid display of crimson and gold. Bernie stopped for a moment to take it all in.

Tuesdays were always the Crown's quietest night, the kitchen was closed. Since Ursula had been employed to help out at the weekends and cover Val's night off, sales were at an all time low on the second day of the week. Paddy was fully aware of this, but he had never come up with a legitimate reason to let Ursula go. He was also suspicious if he came up with an illegitimate reason, Ursula would not hesitate in seeking legal advice. So when Bernie heard a voice in the dusk she jumped slightly.

"Don't usually see you on a Tuesday night?" Paddy's warm tones soothed the visitors fright.

Bernie followed the steam of Vivid Vanilla to the well weathered bench that clung to the back of the inn. The little brass plaque was in need of a polish Bernie noticed. _In memory of Frank and Peggy who loved this spot and watched the sunset together._ Bernie didn't know who Frank and Peggy were, but every time she sat on her favourite bench and watched nightfall, she concocted a variety of stories about the lives of the couple. The bench did remember Frank and Peggy and her imagination did the rest.

Bernie joined Paddy on the bench, amongst a cloud of not so Vivid Vanilla. Paddy glanced at Bernie's glass as she poured the mixer into the spirit and rolled the glass between her hands,

"Tough day?" he enquired.

Bernie thought about this, "Not really, I've just come from Mount Busby."

"Working late," Paddy interjected, "You should make sure Phyllis pays you overtime."

"Oh no, it was my fault. I got talking to Delia and then helped with the alpacas. Reggie goes to the bingo with Vi on a Tuesday."

Bernie shuffled against the wood, Paddy's green eyes were staring at her intently.

"You are very kind," he suddenly said.

"Not really, I enjoy being of use," Bernie felt heat in her cheeks and couldn't understand why, she swished her drink again to mix it.

"How are the _two loves_?" Phyllis' nickname was gaining credence.

"Funny, entertaining, fascinating as always," Bernie smiled remembering her last call, “Imagine loving the same person for 60 years, living with someone for all that time."

Paddy polluted the air between them again with the smell of cheesecake. He was staring at the fading hill tops.

Bernie shuffled again, "I am sorry Paddy, I didn't think."

Paddy jolted back to the present, Bernie continued, "You must be thinking of Marianne."

Paddy was facing her, his eyes darting from one side to the other. Bernie felt so clumsily, of course Paddy had intended to spend the rest of his life with Marianne and he hadn't been given the chance. She gently placed her hand on his and started to apologize again. Paddy quickly got to his feet muttering something about checking on Ursula and was gone.

Left alone she felt embarrassed, she had obviously made him feel uncomfortable, the tears pricking her eyes took her by surprise. Yes, she felt awful at being so insensitive, but she had apologized and there was no need to feel so upset about a small act of thoughtlessness, these things happened all the time.

She slowly reached for a small tin in her bag. Bernie knew it was a terrible habit, she felt ridiculous. She had never even considered trying it in her teens and now succumbing at her age. She blamed Trixie entirely and cursed her slightly under her breath, aware that her city based friend wouldn't care one bit.

Opening it gently she placed it on her lap and straightened out one of the small white papers, quickly filling it with tobacco and rolling it nimbly between her fingers, as her friend had taught her. Then she reached again into the bag and this time brought out a box of matches placing the handmade cigarette between her lips, she deftly struck a match and lit her creation. No-one would see, the pub was deserted. Paddy had probably gone up to his flat now in a state of melancholy, thanks to her.

Bernie nearly burnt her fingers when the back door swung open again. She turned to see who had discovered her secret, hoping it was only Ursula who would be neither interested or perplexed. Bernie's heart made every beat known to her, as Paddy moved towards her, cocked his head to one side, raised an eyebrow and said nothing, only handed her a candy striped straw. She accepted it, but found she couldn't do anything but hold it in midair, where she had received it. He turned and re-entered the pub, Bernie was sure he had heard her every heartbeat as clearly as she had.


	7. What a Diff'rence a Day Makes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, thanks for reading.

**Lord, what a difference a day makes...And the difference is you. (What a Diff'rence a Day Makes, Dinah Washington)**

Val jumped and spilled some of Bernie's coke onto the bar, she apologized and started to fix it. The cause of her reaction had been Paddy, slamming the pub phone back onto its receiver with such force that the whole thing had careered onto the floor. A busy Friday night with the jukebox blaring out Tubthumping meant very few heads turned towards the incident.

"Well that's just bloody great, absolutely charming," Paddy ranted. Both barmaid and customer waited silently, looking opened mouthed at the landlord. "Ursula, she is not coming in tomorrow or Sunday or any other day, she has had a better offer from the Fourteen Teacups." Paddy was livid.

Val couldn't help suppress a grin and Bernie became fascinated with chasing her lemon around her replenished glass with her straw.

"Paddy she was bloody awful. She was chasing even the hardened drinkers away. Good luck to the Teacups. She has been responsible for closing down half the pubs in the district. That's why they call her Temperance."

"Well I am glad you think that way Val, because until further notice your night off is cancelled."

"I have a date this Tuesday, with Conrad." Bernie and Paddy shared a quick look and a smile. It was very rare Val got past the second date stage.

"Well you will have to meet him here then." Val scowled and Paddy left the bar in a huff with a very old beleaguered looking address book, determined to track down much needed help.

"That's too bad, Val," Bernie then added a little coyly, "So Conrad is still Mr Right Now?" Val's face beamed, "Well, I like to think of him as Mr Right On."

Bernie blushed and swung her legs beneath her bar stool, but couldn't help chuckling along with Val. There was something about her friend that made her feel less self conscious than some other women around her own age.

"I hope Paddy finds someone quickly then," Bernie added genuinely. "Ursula only covered Tuesdays and helped out at the weekends, she was hardly a workaholic," Val mused, "Vi can pull a pint and even old Evie doesn't mind keeping her hand in every now and then."

"Nice bit of extra work for someone trying to save up or add to their wages." Bernie chirped.

Val's eyes were wide as saucers, her tongue was between her teeth and she was nodding her head to a secret rhythm. "Yes, nice little filler for someone with time on their hands and in need of extra cash."

"Yep," said Bernie innocently removing a lemon pip frustratingly lodged in her straw, "Shouldn't be too difficult to find at all."

"When can you start?" pounced Val reaching for Bernie's wrist.

Bernie giggled until she read the look on Val's face, "Val, no, not me."

"Why not, you only work until five and during the week."

"I can be asked to cover for the evening and weekend carers occasionally," Bernie protested.

Val asked her when was the last time she had provided this cover and Bernie failed to answer the question with any conviction. Before Bernie had time to protest she found herself on the opposite side of the bar. Val was talking fast and pointing... _till, tips, ID, real ale, electric pumps, premium, house, cash back._

"Val really l.."

"Think of the money, you don't want to live with Matron all your life. You could save up, get your name on the housing list for Appleby Thornton. You've already got a car."

"Val I might not even be staying in Poplar, the Mission emailed me the other day. I talk to them all the time."

"You are not going this week though are you? Look you are popular with the other punters, you are in here all the time anyway, you might as well get paid for it."

"Val, I really.."

"What's all this then?" Paddy had appeared through the door that led to the Turner flat.

"Bernie the Barmaid," Val chirped, "an answer to all our prayers."

"Absolutely," grinned Paddy. Bernie suddenly forgot how to argue.

Noon on Saturday, Bernie Mannion examined herself in the cheval mirror in Matron Crane's spare room. She wore a slightly above knee straight black skirt and a white long sleeve fitted blouse with 3 button cuffs. The blouse was slightly less fitted than it was designed to be, due to as Bernie always said _God not being over generous dishing out boobs when it had been her turn_. Unfortunately her push-up bras were black and deep pink. Bernie pulled at the hem of the shirt, it would have to do.

Paddy had told her it didn't matter for her first shift, but the Crown uniform was black skirt or trousers and a white shirt. Bernie had felt for a hint of irony in his voice but had found none. Even though Val was wearing a blue denim skirt and red T-shirt and he himself had on faded blue jeans and a pink shirt. She couldn't recall actually ever seeing Val in monochrome. Bernie bit her lip, had he been teasing her? Would he and Val collapse in floods of laughter when she walked into the pub.

It was too late to change, Bernie pushed her size 3 black stocking feet into her black ballerina pumps. Val had advised flats rather than heels until she had gotten used to being on her feet behind the bar all day. But that was just it, she didn't want to get used to being behind a bar all day. She would need to tell Paddy straight off that she would do this favour today, but really this wasn't ideal.

Paddy and Val were arguing about something as she walked in the door, so they didn't hear her let out the huge breath she had been storing. They looked up as she came towards the bar.

"Here is our girl," Paddy grinned, "and very smart too. Thank you for making the effort," he continued, glancing sharply at an unconcerned Val in a green shirt dress. "Val will show you where to put your things."

"Paddy there's something I need to explain," Bernie began.

Paddy was looking directly at her, like she was the first woman he had ever seen. He said nothing but moved his head slightly to one side in encouragement for her to speak. In an unconscious movement he flicked his unruly hair away from his eyes.

Bernie faltered and then took a deep breath and continued,

"Do I need to wear my hair up?" Bernie groaned at herself deep inside.

Bernie lay on her bed, the duvet kicked to the bottom, her skin was hot and tingly, she had opened the bedroom window a crack to feel the cool night air on her limbs. She had exchanged her long sleeping T-shirt for a thin nylon nightie. She smelt of 5 types of beer, 3 types of lager, 2 types of cider and 7 different spirits and Bold Black Cherries, Paddy's latest vape flavour.

Her hair was matted with sweat. Her ears rang with the sound of 80's electronic pop and 60's rock 'n' roll. Her eyes were sore and itchy and relieved to have given up their lenses. Her feet throbbed. Her chest felt slightly tight and her breathing was faster than normal, her stomach was fluttering.

Bernie's head felt slightly on the light side and she was aware of the rhythm of her pulse. Her parched lips were set in a smile. Her mind raced through the events of that day, her first day at the Crown, her first day as a barmaid, her first day working for Paddy, her first day spent almost entirely working with Paddy.


	8. If the Crown Fits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello Again! Thanks for reading.

**Slow change may pull us apart, when the light gets into your heart. (Don't You Forget About Me, Simple Minds)**

Bernie picked up a wayward straw from under a table prior to Sunday morning opening.

"S'cuse me miss, watch your feet!" Bernie jumped to one side as the demon hooverer of Poplar caught up with her.

"Sorry Evie," she apologized to the Crown's cleaning lady.

"So how was your first day Bernie?"

Bernie considered before speaking as she often did. It had gone quick, it had been harder work than she had anticipated and it had been more fun than she had expected.

"I think I spilled more than I served," cracked Bernie cautiously.

"It comes with practice girl, don't worry about it. I think you've got what it takes. You certainly look the part."

"That's praise indeed coming from you." Bernie smiled, "Do you miss it?"

The rather rotund lady in her early 70's leaned on her halted hoover and rocked on her heels. "Every bleeding day," she laughed,

"I was sad but relieved when the Turners took over. But, it's a young person's game the pub trade."

"Paddy is hardly Ed Sheeran," laughed Bernie, Evie looked confused but carried on.

"I worked in the trade all my life, known nothing else, born and raised in a pub down south."

"And you don't mind...the cleaning?"

"I know what you are thinking, what is this sad old girl doing cleaning the bogs in the kingdom she used to rule?"

Bernie blushed because that is exactly what she had been thinking. Evie continued,

"It started as a favour to Paddy." Bernie was all to aware where that could lead she thought. "Mrs Turner was a good landlady, very popular with the punters, but rather on the flighty side. I think Paddy wanted me around just to show her the ropes, it being their first pub," Evie was happy to recall.

"And he asked you to clean for him?" Bernie was incredulous.

"No, he asked me to stay on as a sort of bar manager, but that would have been a mistake for both of us. I chose the cleaning. _Evangelina makes it Cleaner_ , as young Reggie says." A warm smile lit up the distant wistful eyes of the hard working woman. "I come in do my bit, make myself available if necessary. Keep my gob shut if necessary," she added resolutely.

Bernie was moved, "That's incredibly gracious of you." 

"Your father did the same."

"My dad?" Evie explained that Reverend Mannion had become a more regular visitor to the Crown shortly after Bernie had left for London. Bernie had not been aware of this and it was now left for the previous landlady to explain her father's acquired habits.

"If the parishioners wouldn't come to church, the church came to the parishioners. Your dad knew there were villagers who would never set foot in Saint Preservus, but your dad still cared about their lives and their needs, so he came to them. Not in a preachy kind of way or shaking a collection tin. He sat and drank and smoked with them, talked their language. He was a great man your dad."

Bernie was finding it hard to respond, she wondered if this was why she had been drawn to the Crown so much on her return, trying to find her dads spirit. Evie continued, "I have never been a big church goer, Sunday's were always too busy. But I've always felt the church isn't a building it's a community. I think your dad felt the same."

"I once believed that." Bernie found her voice, "I seem to have forgotten a lot my dad taught me recently, when I was in London at the mission I knew that. Maybe that's where I should be?"

Bernie was so lost in her own thoughts and Evie's revelations, that she hadn't taken much notice of Paddy coming up from the cellar with Fred Buckle from the brewery. Vi was at the Specials Board rubbing out yesterday's special _Parmo and Chunky Chips_ and chalking on today's special, _Parmo,Yorkshire pudding and roasties._

Jack was talking to Reggie. He was a great cellarman and Jack was keen to learn even though he hid it well. Val was changing the labels on the Real Ale pumps to match Fred's new brews with Tim's help. Replacing Buckle's Best with Reggie's Wee Heavy and Poplar Popular IPA with Vi's Velvet Ale.

It was Tim who spoke first, "Dad what is it with you and barmaids? Bernie has just started and she is talking about leaving."

Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked over at where Bernie was talking to Evie. The older lady took out a cloth and started nonchalantly cleaning tables.

"Are you leaving, Bernie?" asked Reggie.

"Eventually Reggie, I have a life in London that I need to get back to someday," Bernie's voice shook.

Paddy was the only one not still, he was fiddling with the cellar door lock, he was also the only one not looking at her.

"I thought this was your home?" chirped in Tim.

"It is, I grew up here, if I go back down to London I will always come back and visit, I always have," she tried to reassure.

"That was to see your old man," Reggie added astutely.

"You don't have any ties now, why would you come back?" The sudden intervention by Paddy and the serious edge to his voice made everyone turn their gaze from Bernie towards him.

"I will always come back, I promise." Bernie's voice was small. "How often do you go to Scotland or you Paddy go to Liverpool? I never go to Reading now, haven't been for years, no need to," Evie inputted out of nowhere.

"Sorry Bernie, but they are right," joined in Vi, "you will be like all the rest that's left this village, just like her."

"Who?" Said Val.

"Her," said Vi, "The one before you, whatsername?"

"Oh yes," remembered Fred, "the posh tart."

"Fred Buckle mind your manners," snapped Vi. Fred looked abashed.

"She was bar staff before you Val, nice girl," Violet continued throwing daggers at Fred. “A few airs and graces, but we soon knocked them out of her."

"Why did she leave?" questioned Val, "Oh wait don't tell me I could write a list." She grinned at Paddy, who didn't even attempt a comeback.

"She met a new fella. She had this drip hanging around for years, but she found someone else and left with him, to some big snooty hotel somewhere down south." Violet continued her story, "She said she would keep in touch, that she would be sure to visit. I expected her to be at some of the hatches, matches and dispatches in the village. I know for a fact she has been invited to a few. But always a no show."

"We do get a Christmas card every year," Tim piped up.

"Yeah, you used to fancy her something rotten, before the lovely Lucille brought her love to town," teased Jack. Tim shot him an angry "you'll keep" look.

"Do we?" Val was puzzled.

"Yes, it's usually an expensive looking one, you know one of those with a lovely verse, not from a pack. She adds a note about what her and her family are up too." Violet was on the case.

"What was her name?" butt in Fred, "It's only been a couples of years. For the life of me I can't recall it."

"Jenny!" shouted Evie.

"Jenny," repeated everyone except Paddy and Bernie.

Paddy was still fiddling with the lock. Bernie was playing with the old straw she had found under a table. Both looking anywhere but at each other.

"Jenny," said Reggie again and added, looking at Bernie,"You will be Jenny."

"No I won't," Bernie's voice was louder than she had anticipated and got everyone's attention, "I won't be Jenny," she was answering Reggie, but staring straight at Paddy.

Who looked back at her without response and very little light in his eyes.

The team didn't have long to reminisce over absent friends, Sundays were their busy day with folk coming from all over the county for one of Vi's famous Roast Dinners. This Sunday the local football team were playing at home. So there would be a few _Moggie_ fans in, before they headed to the war memorial to get the mini bus to the football ground.

Paddy and Val worked hard behind the bar, helped by Bernie. She actually felt more of a hindrance, but the experienced workforce kept reassuring her. It was tight with the three of them in the limited space behind the solid original oak and brass bar. Bernie noticed how years of working together had resulted in Paddy and Val anticipating each others actions and they seemed to work in perfect synchronicity. On the other hand Bernie was continually apologizing for stepping on toes or bumping into them both. Determined to be of use she tried to work faster and in doing so spun round and sent a pint of Velvet Vi that Paddy had just poured flying across the bar, much to the delight of the football supporters. Cries of "Sack the juggler," resounding through the bar over the strains of the Fratellis Chelsea Dagger on the jukebox.

"I am so sorry Paddy, please take it out of my wages," Bernie was nearly in tears.

Paddy grabbed her gently by the shoulders and turned her towards him, "Bernie it's fine, happens all the time. Look we have a _No Sorry_ rule here. Val never apologizes for anything."

She gained an ounce of courage from his smile. He nodded and confirmed, "No more sorries, OK." Bernie nodded back and felt her body relax in his reassuring hold.

"Why don't you go and help Jack waiting on. I think he could use an extra pair of hands."

"Do you trust me not to land a plate of dinner in someone's lap?" Bernie said half joking.

Paddy ran his hands gently down Bernie's white cotton clad arms and took both her hands in his. Looking into her eyes he could see it wasn't the new contacts making her eyes water. He felt her shiver and wondered if it he was putting to much pressure on his new starter.

"I would trust my life to these hands," he smiled, Bernie was glad he was holding onto her because she suddenly felt a bit giddy.

The moment was broken by an overstretched Val hissing, "Paddy, I could use some help here."

Bernie got into her stride helping Jack, and soon Tim, serving food and clearing away. Vi sent some roast potatoes and pork crackling out to the bar for the footie crowd, in hope of soaking up some of their alcohol consumption. Bernie delivered the freebies to the bar and Paddy reassuringly winked at her and she surprised herself by winking back.

Suddenly her smile disintegrated, when she felt a hand on her bottom and the beery breath on her face of someone a little worse for wear, for the time of day. Val sensed something was wrong immediately and told the bearer of unwanted attention exactly what she would do to him if he didn't behave himself.

Bernie noticed Paddy didn't react and just kept serving the last of the fans determined to squeeze in one more pint before imminent departure. She wondered if he thought such incidents were all part of the job. Did he think she was big enough to take care of herself, which to be fair she was. Maybe he recognized the experience she had gained in London and didn't see her as the naive vicar's daughter that had left home all those years ago, she knew a lot of Poplar folk still thought of her in those terms.

The new girl started cleaning away plates from across the room. She turned just in time to catch Paddy leaning across the bar, nose to nose with her inappropriate admirer. The man's alcohol flushed face had turned pale and he quickly drank up and clumsily alighted from his stool and left the Crown banging his shoulder on the unforgiving iron door frame.

Paddy glanced over at Bernie, who was watching him and the smile, she was starting to think about far more often than she admitted to herself, returned to his troubled face. Bernie moved towards the bar to retrieve a drained gravy boat. Paddy leaned over the bar again, this time his stance less threatening than when directed towards the departed unwelcome guest.

"Bernie if anything like that happens again, you tell me or Val or even Jack. You don't need to put up with that kind of crap. I don't need that kind of sad sod's money. Do you understand?" Paddy was wagging his finger firmly at her, not as a reprimand but trying to stress the seriousness of his request. She couldn't help herself, she leaned over and secured his left index finger in her right hand stopping his rhythm.

"I do." She nodded and tightened her grip for a second. It was Paddy's turn to change colour.

He went to say something but it was Val's voice that was heard above the footie choir, starting a chorus with "Wise men say only fools rush in..." for the seventh time that afternoon.

"Well we never had this sort of trouble with Ursula." Val beamed over the bar at Bernie, with her tongue propping up her top lip.

As Paddy had said, Val never apologized for anything. Bernie let go of Paddy's sweaty finger from her warm hand. It now resembled a limp straw.

As she headed back to the kitchen she caught a look at herself in one of the ornate antique brewery mirrors. She could see behind her own reflection Paddy was watching her. She focused on her own image, she was wearing the most ridiculous smile.

_For goodness sake Shelagh Bernadette he just threw some drunken creep out for grabbing your arse, it's not like he fought a bleeding dragon for you._

Shelagh Bernadette in the looking glass just smiled back.


	9. Everything's Tuesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.

**My heart was a lonely house, where strangers wandered in and out. Until Tuesday. (Everything's Tuesday, Chairmen of the Board)**

Cynthia pulled up at Mount Busby Farm, Delia was due a blood pressure check and needed her bunions treating. Bernie noticed a familiar Mini parked in Cynthia's usual spot. She mostly got on very well with its owner Jane. She was a regular church goer and one of Bernie's closest and oldest friends, at times though things could be wee bit awkward between them. Although her friend professed to share the same beliefs as Bernie, her chosen profession had given Bernie some cause for concern.

The carer was greeted by a tall striking woman, looking about 20 years younger than her age declared on Wikipedia. The flecks of red in her grey perfectly coiffed hair were attracting the late afternoon sunlight, that stretched through the grand doorway.

"Go through, Nurse. Delia won't mind. I think they are nearly finished."

"I would prefer to wait, if you don't mind, Ms Mount," Bernie politely declined.

"As you wish and it's Patsy, I will go and pop the kettle on."

Bernie shouted her own name after her host in reciprocation of the gesture. She wondered whether to follow Patsy, when both Delia and Jane came down the old oak staircase. Jane hugged her friend and, discovering that this was Bernie's last visit of the day, agreed to also take tea with the two sociable farmhouse residents.

Once sat in the parlour Bernie wrapped the BP cuff around Delia's arm.

"It should be in my boots," remarked the tiny Welsh woman, "After an hour with the lovely Jane and her healing hands."

Bernie exchanged a weak smile. Jane was well aware of Bernie's reservations concerning her healing skills. She wasn't the only church member to view Jane's gifts with speculation. Some openly disapproved and refused to sit anywhere near her, never mind talk to her, as if heresy was contagious. Bernie however had never discussed Jane's treatments, even though they often visited the same homes. Bernie was too polite and would never wish to offend anyone, especially someone as kind as Jane. The healer was also not in the habit of defending her choices. She didn't push her claims and went about her work quietly. She was very busy for someone who didn't indulge in self promotion. Her reputation and word of mouth from those she helped sufficed to fill her diary.

When the two friends took their leave of the farmhouse they meandered over to the paddock, where the Alpacas were busy munching grass.

"We haven't been out in a while Bernie, do you fancy popping over to Appleby Thornton on Saturday? I could do with picking up a few boxes of tea-lights and some oils. We could make a day of it."

Bernie hesitated, "I can't Jane, I'm working, I am afraid."

"Matron Crane got you working weekends Bernie?"

"Erm no, it's not for Phyll."

"Moonlighting, Bernie Mannion I am shocked."

"No it's completely legit, Phyll knows, even encouraged me," Bernie started defensively and then relaxed seeing the twinkle in her pal's eye.

"Are you sitting with someone?"

"No, unless you mean Paddy Turner," Bernie managed a smile, "I am working at the Crown."

"The pub!" gentle Jane's sudden raise of voice startled the Alpacas.

"No the Queen, I do sentry duty of a weekend at Buck Palace."

Jane burst into laughter, "Well you're beginning to sound like cheeky Val, can you flirt like her too?"

"Stop it Jane! I really like her, she's been very good to me."

"I am joking, I give her an aromatherapy massage once a month, she has me in stitches."

"Do you? I thought it was supposed to be relaxing?"

"Well some clients do fall asleep, but Val never shuts up. It's usually a Tuesday and I think I am just a small cog in the complex preparations to meet the next Mr Right."

Bernie laughed at her friends revelations with comprehension.

"Your dad was a bit the same," Jane gasped aware of her mistake.

"My dad?"

"Oh Bernie I am so sorry I promised not to tell. It was just some reflexology he found it soothing with all the burdens he shared. I am so sorry. I always gifted my fee to the collection plate."

"How did I no ken? I had no idea." Her voice sharper than anticipated, the alpacas retreated further down field.

"He asked me to be discreet, he thought you might not approve."

They parted on good terms one disappointed in herself for betraying a confidence and one fighting back the tears, for being outside of that confidence.

_Later:_

"I wouldn't be to upset old thing, I hear she is very good. I have been fancying a bit of a rub down myself for a while. But somewhat afraid she may up her fee due to the extra mileage involved," Chummy snorted.

"I think she covers Appleby Thornton," Bernie said perplexed, "she seems willing to travel. You only live in the next town Chummy."

"Oh Bernie you are so sweet, I meant my extra surface area," Chummy laughed so hard at her self deprecating joke she wobbled on the bar stool she was precariously balanced on. Bernie frowned.

Ever since Camilla had transferred from the Berkshire force as a young rookie and started attending Saint Preservus church they had become firm friends. They had kept in contact while Bernie was in London, Camilla had even come down for a weekend. The only time Chummy didn't make Bernie laugh was when she made jokes at her own expense. She knew she wasn't alone in this and the other person who disapproved of it had just come in.

"Bernie, this is a pleasant surprise," exclaimed Peter, "where is Smiler?" Bernie hadn't time to reply, Chummy was there before her.

"Old Temperance has gone to the Teacups apparently and Bernie has stepped into the breach, isn't it just splendid?"

Bernie smiled, Chummy was always so supportive, not just when she had told her she was moving to London to find God's plan for her life. Chummy had been equally enthusiastic when she had explained her long held dream of returning to her Scottish birthplace to build a retreat. She had been just as supportive when Bernie had nervously informed her at church on Sunday morning, that she couldn't stay for tea and biscuits because she was expected at the Crown.

"The Fourteen Teacups, I bet she reduces it to _the_ Teacup by the end of the month."

Bernie giggled mostly at Chummy's over-the-top reaction to Peter's weak joke. She really was a good friend to everyone and Bernie often thought, Poplar and the surrounding area were so lucky to have her looking after them.

Tuesday nights were a lot different to Saturday and Sundays, but there was a steady flow of customers all evening. Bernie knew Tuesday was usually Paddy's unofficial night off too. The kitchen was closed as Vi liked to go to Bingo with Reggie. She kept telling Paddy she would be OK on her own and would soon let him know if she got into difficulties. She was determined to prove to him she wasn't a liability. He left a couple of times for the flat, but always returned on some vague pretence a few minutes later. She wondered if he would ever trust her. She told him to at least go and play pool with Tim and Jack, but his son had made it very clear his father's presence was not required in the adjacent games room. Eventually she gave in, he was good company, but she had so wanted to make a good impression on her first shift without the supervision of Val.

Bernie had returned from the kitchen after retrieving a lemon. She was surprised to see both Chummy and Peter had left without saying goodbye. Paddy informed her they had just nipped out to the beer garden.

"But neither of them smoke and it's a bit nippy out there tonight," Bernie was confused.

Paddy just smiled, it was one of the ones that had started to make her tummy flip. He squeezed her arm as he moved past her. Did he know what he did to her she wondered, was the squeeze out of sympathy for her rogue insides? Bernie knew she had coloured slightly after the exchange and decided to go and see what her friends were up to. Telling Paddy she was going to check the ashtrays and see if the two workmates knew how to turn on the outdoor heaters. Paddy smirked again, Bernie was more prepared this time and tightened her stomach muscles in preparation.

"I wouldn't worry Bernie, I think they will be warm enough," Paddy winked.

Bernie wasn't prepared for that and the disobedient organ flipped again. Bernie returned a few seconds later, her stomach was now doing somersaults but it wasn't this time due to Paddy. He smiled at her again and continued serving a regular a pint of Timothy Turner Mild.

"Bernie," a familiar voice hissed behind her and a hand squeezed the same arm Paddy had earlier, this time leading her into the small snug used mainly by diners. In the empty room Camilla talked quickly,

"I am so sorry you had to witness that, we really should be more careful," Chummy was obviously distressed by her friends recent intrusion.

"You have nothing to apologise for," gabbled Bernie, "I am happy for you, really I am. You could have warned me though," and she broke into a smile.

"That's just it, we can't tell anyone. If the powers-that-be find out, they will separate us, put us on different shifts. We will never see each other either at work or play." Chummy was frantic.

"Oh, I didnae think, but I wouldnae tell, you know that Chummy." Bernie was quickly piecing the puzzle together.

"Did you really have no idea?" Chummy was a radiant blush pink Bernie truthfully shook her head.

"Did you think Peter was just a terrible policeman or just awful at exams?"

Bernie felt stupid, "Of course, if he became sergeant you would be separated, too. Oh Chummy, that is so unselfish of him and the most romantic thing ever."

"I think so," Chummy's nerves were calming.

"Wait how long has this been going on?"

"3 years, 6 months, 2 weeks and 74 hours roughly," Chummy added in all seriousness.

Bernie giggled and then stopped, "And you didn't tell me even when I was in London and very unlikely to slip up with your secret."

"Oh Bernie I am sorry, I would trust you with my life, you know that."

"But not this?" Bernie was trying not to sound hurt.

"I wasn't sure you would approve, old thing."

"I understand your reasons for discretion, it's not like you've been blatantly lying," Bernie was trying to hide the indignation in her voice.

"That's not the thing Bernie. Peter doesn't go to church, he doesn't class himself as an atheist, more a sceptic shall we say."

"I've seen him at church lots," Bernie protested.

"That's because he wants to be with me sometimes, when," Chummy chose her words carefully, "when he has stopped over, shall we say for a night cap, that's when he comes."

"Oh, I see," Bernie felt tears prick her eyes for the second time that day at a friends revelation.

"You are so certain about what kind of man you want to marry, I thought you might disapprove of this relationship."

"It matters to me Chummy, I want to open a retreat and do God's work, remember it's important that my partner wants the same things as I do. I know God has someone special for me or I will stay single, whichever is his will." Bernie felt a lot more at ease explaining this to Chummy than she had to Val a few weeks ago.

Chummy nodded and shuffled on her size 7 feet. Bernie continued,

"You are already following God's plan for you, by serving the community and Peter has that same vision. He is a good man Chummy and who knows if he accompanies you to church often enough, his heart may eventually open. It might be meant to be," Bernie added reassuring herself.

"Quite right," added Chummy, "Until then it will be our little secret. I am so relieved that you finally know. Friends shouldn't have secrets." She enveloped the much smaller woman in a bear hug, Bernie's feet leaving the ground for a second.

The last punter had drunk up. The tables and bar had all been cleaned, glasses all washed. Paddy added ice and the last of the lemon to two tumblers and emptied the premium gin bottle of four shots. He added a Mediterranean tonic to one and took the top off the other but left the contents inside. He leaned over to the straw carousel and plonked a black straw into the glass that was minus the tonic.

"I think we have earned this."

"Straws Mr Turner are for soft drinks only," Bernie did a remarkable impression of her predecessor.

Paddy grinned in surprise, "Hidden talents, Miss Mannion."

"That's me Shelagh Bernadette Mannion, barmaid of mystery," she giggled as they took a bench seat.

"It was busier than I expected," Bernie queried.

"Hmmm, news must have got out about the new barmaid," Paddy said by way of explanation, "Apparently she's a real looker."

"Paddy, you are so old fashioned," Bernie's scolded trying to hide her blushes.

"No I am just old," he laughed.

"No you are not, that's nonsense, you are still Poplar's most eligible bachelor," she giggled.

"The merry widower," Paddy replied ruefully.

"Oh Paddy, I am so sorry." Bernie could have kicked herself, "I don't know what's wrong with me today, I have had so many difficult conversations."

"Bernie this isn't difficult, I didn't mean to correct you, forgive me."

"I found out today that people I thought trusted me, have been keeping secrets from me." She surprised herself with her confession to her new boss.

"If you're talking about Chummy and Peter, I should have stopped you going outside. It was just too funny." Paddy also confessed.

"You know!" Bernie was so shocked she actually spilled the whole bottle of tonic she was pouring into her drink. "Bugger!" she muttered.

Paddy looked bemused. "My friend in London, she taught me lots of bad habits I am afraid."

"What did you do for her?" Paddy asked trying not to laugh.

"Introduced her to Jesus," Bernie beamed.

Paddy roared with laughter, checking to see if Bernie was also amused and was relieved that she was.

"Fair trade," he added.

"She says I saved her life, but she is prone to exaggeration," Bernie added shyly. He sensed she didn't want to say more. Paddy returned to the original topic.

"So who else has been keeping secrets?"

"My dad and two people I thought knew me so well, they didn't tell me stuff because they thought I'd disapprove of them. What does that say about me?" Bernie was suddenly very serious.

Paddy answered slowly, "I think it says they cared about you and didn't want you to feel uncomfortable, they obviously valued your opinion."

"My dad stopped doing something with someone that gave him comfort because of me." Bernie protested.

Paddy raised an eyebrow, "Go Wilf."

Bernie hesitated a second and then squealed, "Paddy, not that!"

"I don't know what your talking about, you have a filthy mind Bernadette, for a vicar's daughter."

"No, that's my da you're talking about, behave yourself," trying so hard to sound vexed and not giggle and failing badly.

"Your dad had a terrible sense of humour, you should have heard him in some of those council meetings, even made the Matron blush once."

Bernie was hooked, "I feel like I didn't really know him, when I thought I did. Tell me more Paddy, please."

"Well for a start, he was very proud of you."

Bernie gulped and for the third time that day she felt tears in her eyes. She really must start wearing her glasses for work. Paddy was still looking at her, directly into her eyes. He was serious now, there was no hint of amusement in his own dark eyes, more a searching for something.

They were sat so close together she hadn't realized their thighs were touching, only separated by Bernie's freshly laundered compulsory black skirt and Paddy's faded jeans. Paddy moved forward just slightly and Bernie quickly spoke up,

"Please Paddy, tell me about my dad."


	10. the King's Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello you, glad you are still reading.  
> Bernie's thoughts are in italics.

**I know this for sure, I am walking out that door. (Last Nite,The Stokes)**

Bernie sat in Cynthia in complete darkness the engine switched off. She rewound the events of the last hour over and over again in her mind. They had been talking about her dad, his place in the community, his pride in his daughter. Paddy had been so reassuring, she had felt better talking to him. She had appreciated his candour.

"So where on earth did he get the idea he could just lean over and kiss me like that," Bernie groaned into the darkness.

Bernie restarted the projector in her mind again. Chatting, laughing, consoling, kissing!

She racked her brain, they were sharing stories about her father. Paddy had been recounting an amusing anecdote about a parish council meeting and then,

"The next thing I know his tongue is in the wrong mouth. No Bernie slow down."

She took a deep breath and then a second one to fill the other lung.

"We were laughing and then he stopped, he was looking into my eyes." She began out loud and then continued in her thoughts; _and then he touched my face and brushed his thumb against my cheek. He leaned forward and gently placed his lips on mine._

Bernie shuddered, took another gulp of air and tried to calm her breathing. She tried to focus on the mission's little yellow teddy dangling from the rear-view mirror, but it was too dark. She couldn't be too sure he was still smiling at her.

"Then what did you do Shelagh Bernadette?" Bernie turned her confusion into anger, "Push him away with both hands, get up and walk out of the Crown and vow never to set foot in the wretched pub again. Is that what you did?"

Her mind tauntingly replayed the scene as Bernie supplied the narrative to the audience of herself.

_No Bernie didn't protest did she? Bernie ran her hands through his hair like she has longed to do. Bernie moved closer and snuggled into his chest. Bernie kissed him back and clung to him as if for dear life and eventually breathlessly told him she would see him in the morning for breakfast._

Bernie lent forward and banged her head on Cynthia's steering wheel several times. _I could have been in London now, I should have been at least six months ago. Instead I am stuck in the middle-of-nowhere watching my life unravel and now this._

"This? What is this?" No-one answered her question.

Bernie didn't sleep too well that night, she tossed and turned. When she snatched a few moments of sleep she dreamt of Paddy, when she lay awake she couldn't erase his face, his eyes, his smile, his kiss. She closed her eyes and scrunched herself into a ball, her favourite over-sized, Keep Calm and Carry On nightie, pulled down over her knees and wrapped around her feet like a giant anti-Paddy cocoon.

She could still felt his hands on her face, her arms, her legs, across her back. Every place he had touched her burned with the memory. She even felt her hair hurt. Bernie finally gave in at 3am. She unwrapped herself from her self-mummification and tapped on the soft pink night-light. She reached across the bedside locker for her glasses, the ones that Paddy said he liked her wearing and groaned at the memory. Knocking a bottle of I Can't Believe It's Not Water onto the floor, fortunately sealed. _Yay a win at last_ , thought Bernie.

Picking up her NIV Bible as she had been in the habit of doing since childhood. In times of trouble, she would turn it over and upside down three or four times and then open at random and read what God had to say. The more desperate she was, the more she tended to spin her most precious book. Eventually after a thorough twirl in all directions, she stopped. Bernie really was ready for some inspiration and she opened the book firmly a little way from the middle to the right. Something fell from the book and landed on her chest. Bernie picked it up, it was a beer mat with a website address scribbled on it. She recalled Chummy telling her about a prayer-chain website. After a vain attempt to find anything more suitable, she had written the information on a beer mat. Bernie, unthinking, had placed it in her bible to check it out later before her prayer time in the morning.

_That's all it is. God is reminding me of the power of prayer and the importance of Christian friends. The beer mat is irrelevant, even if it is one of the Crown's own and has a picture of Paddy and Tim smiling in front of the pub. That's just a coincidence, means nothing at all._

She closed the book a little more firmly than she expected. Returning it to the bedside locker along with her glasses, tapping out the light, that flashed bright and startled her and went out on the third tap.

Bernie may not have had much sleep but she was wide awake and ready for action the next morning. She sat in her uniform outside the Crown in Cynthia. She was completely prepared and knew exactly what she was going to do. Bernie had a plan. Tonight she would talk to Phyll and with great regret put in her month's notice. She would call the mission and tell them she was on her way and could they arrange temporary accommodation for her. She would presently go into the Crown and pretend nothing had happened last night and give Paddy her notice. This was going to be a very good day indeed. The first day of the rest of her life.

Bernie entered the pub and saw that her regular table was set up like it was every weekday morning just for her. The only addition was a single pink rose in a flip top Heineken bottle, obviously cut from the roses that trailed around the door of the inn. She steadied herself by surmising it must be a new thing Violet was trying out. She sat down and for a moment her resolve slowly retreated back through the doors. She picked up a spoon and tried to see her reflection, she had put on weight since coming to Poplar, she turned over the spoon, no, she was definitely looking thin and drawn. She poured the tea from the pot into her mug and one for Paddy, it would have been churlish not to. There was a jug of fresh orange and she sniffed it to make sure it lived up to its name and poured it into an awaiting tumbler.

Paddy appeared on cue with her breakfast as he had done most mornings since her father had died. Bernie doled three spoons of honey in to disguise that sawdust taste and mask the texture of bubble wrap. _At least in London I can have toast,_ she thought cheerily.

Paddy chatted as normal about nothing and she nodded and agreed as normal about nothing. Bernie couldn't suppress a pang of victory, she had been right, he wanted to forget about the events of the previous evening as much as she did.

_Maybe it didn't mean anything to him, maybe he snogs all the barmaids eventually, maybe it's a perk._

A vision of Val came to her mind and she chased it away. Followed by Ursula. Bernie screwed up her face to banish that image.

Paddy was playing with his mobile, now that was unusual Paddy wasn't a phone person. Tim had signed him up for all the regular accounts, Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, but Paddy wasn't interested and they all stood idle, he didn't have a very high opinion of men who spent all day on social media instead of working.

A look of achievement similar to a toddler getting the square block through the square hole lit up Paddy's face and Bernie stirred her oatmeal vigorously, determined not to find him endearing. Paddy slid the lump of digital plastic across the table to her.

"I have asked Evie to come in and cover Friday night for me."

"I could do that." Bernie pounced. _I Need the money for my fare to London_

"That would kind of defeat the object," laughed Paddy nervously,

"I have found the website for the multiplex cinema near Appleby Thornton." Paddy was pushing his phone nearer to her, it was doing a sort of tango with the lager bottle. "Your choice, I don't mind, I haven't seen any of them."

 _Bugger_ thought Bernie.

"Val recommends this one, so that eliminates it, do you agree?" smiled Paddy laughing a little to loudly at his own joke.

_Now Bernie, now tell him you are going back to London._

Paddy fell silent. She could tell he was sweating from the perspiration left on the screen. He smiled nervously, endearingly, hopefully and very lopsidedly. Bernie felt like he was looking straight into her soul again, she didn't even know where it was located, but he always managed to find it.

_Tell him Bernie you are leaving Poplar._

"Paddy there is something I need to tell you, I need to be honest."

"Yes Bernie please, I want you to be,"

She saw his adam's apple bob, he was fiddling with a beer mat between his thumb and index finger, rhythmically bouncing it off the table. Bernie steadied his hand with hers,

"Paddy, please listen."

He turned her hand over in his, her hand was cold in contrast to his hot ones. His restless hands radiating heat warmed her chilly nervous fingers as he caressed life into them, the blood rising to the surface. He suddenly remembered there was a person attached to the tiny object of desire he held. Looking up into her face, he replied;

"Yes, Bernie?"

She nodded and tried to find some saliva to make her tongue work, "Paddy..."

_Now Bernie_

"I haven't got a straw for my orange juice."


	11. Stay For Awhile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have done so well to get to here.Thank you for reading.

**Well it's good to see your smile and I'd love your company. (Stay For Awhile, Amy Grant)**

  
Cynthia's dashboard had told Bernie it was 25 degrees Celsius outside the Ford Ka, but why then was she shivering and wishing she had her cardi? If global warming resulted in unbearable temperatures too great for the human race to tolerate. Bernie concluded that the final inhabitants of planet earth would live on station platforms, _because whatever the weather they were always bloody freezing._

Bernie looked up at the departure and arrival board for the umpteenth time. The Edinburgh train due at 11:08 was delayed by seven minutes. Bernie calculated that was not really time enough to go get a coffee. She would just wander up and down the platform to keep warm. A yellow light six minutes later appeared in the distance, it slowly became brighter and the intercity from London King's Cross chugged into view.

Amid the travellers wearily alighting and the travellers eagerly waiting to board, a rather handsome man Bernie admitted, left the train. He wore a smart dark grey suit, Bernie thought probably designer, not that she was an expert on such matters. She was always most comfortable in her supermarket jeans and a baggy shirt. She admired his slick charcoal grey tie, she mused that the choice in tie was very important if you were trying to make an impression. He had a very smart leather overnight bag and matching laptop case, also designer she thought. He then perversely removed a very tatty looking red suitcase from the carriage. Bernie smiled with instant recognition. The handsome man offered his hand towards the open train door and a perfectly manicured hand took it. A beautiful peroxide blonde pixie-cut dipped out of the carriage, It was followed by a slim figure immaculately turned out, in what Bernie knew to be charity shop seconds, from only the most affluent areas of West London.

Handsome man smiled and headed towards platform four for a connecting train, not before kissing the delicate hand he was holding. Bernie rolled her eyes, before waving and yelling, "Trixie, over here."

The blonde spun around and a scarlet painted mouth, the exact same colour as the perfectly polished nails, broke into a stunning smile.

"Bernie, sweetie, I made it, I am up North."

"You are, you really are," replied a breathless Bernie.

The two dodged the other occupants of the platform, all preoccupied with searching for a face familiar to them. The girls met in the middle and hugged each other tightly.

"Gosh, I had no idea how north you were, I think I may feel a nosebleed threatening."

"Trixie I am Scottish, remember there is more north than this," Bernie giggled.

"Really?"

The two reunited friends linked arms, Bernie taking the suitcase pulling duties. They found Cynthia in the car park.

Trixie swung the teddy hanging from the rear view mirror, that she had chosen as Bernie's leaving present, from the mission they had both worked at together. Which now seemed like a lifetime ago to the driver. They talked about their mutual friends in London. Trixie went on to list some of the losses that had occurred at the night shelter. These had mostly resulted in funeral attendances, prison visits and sometimes just futile searches and leaflet drops. Bernie felt a jab of shame in her chest. Whilst her friends had been dealing with all this human sorrow, she asked herself what _she_ had been doing?

Aware of her friends tendency to feel she alone was responsible for every error anyone had naively or foolishly ever made. Trixie realized Bernie was slipping slowly into melancholy. The visitor quickly changed the subject commenting on her surroundings and her excitement at visiting Poplar-on-Tweaven. Bernie was hooked out of her guilt and started to watch the miles being eaten up by green fields and village bypasses, as they headed closer to Poplar. Trixie still wasn't convinced all was well with her friend and finally asked her outright.

Bernie took a minute to collect herself, "I may have to work while you are here."

Trixie was unperturbed, "I know, you said, I can accompany you as long as the patient..."

"Client," Bernie corrected.

" _Client_ agrees and it doesn't compromise their privacy or dignity," continued Trixie as if reading off a card. "Has she changed her mind, the Matron?" Trixie sounded panicked.

"No, not at all Trixie, as long as we stay within the guidelines."

"Oh phew," Trixie exhaled. Bernie was rather perplexed by Trixie's apparent relief. A little excessive for only discovering she was not being prevented from witnessing first hand, a day in the life of a Crane Carer. She didn't have to wait long to discover the reason for Trixie's concern.

"You did promise I could meet Patience Mount," beseeched Trixie.

"I didn't promise anything. Ms Mount is not technically my pati...client and I should never have told you about Mount Busby."

Trixie looked sullen and Bernie seized her opportunity while Trixie was sulking.

"It's not _that_ job, I am referring to."

Trixie was never one to be moody for long especially when she sensed gossip.

"Are you working in a nursing home?"

"No, it is more of a hotel."

"You are a chambermaid?"

"No, it's more of an inn, an old coaching house you could say."

"You work with horses?"

"No, it is more like a public house."

"A pub?"

"You could call it that."

"Doing what?"

"Midwifery, what do you think I am doing in a bleedin’ pub?"

"Alright! Wow Bernie what is up with you?"

"I am sorry, it's...things have been difficult."

"And that is why you have to work in the pub?"

"No, things are difficult because I _do_ work in the pub."

The pair stayed silent for about a quarter of a mile. Trixie staring out into the unknown countryside and Bernie focusing on the all too familiar road in front of her. Bernie regained her composure and calmly began again,

"I might have to work at some point. Pa...my boss has said he will try to cover me while you are here, but I know it might be difficult. So I might have to do a few hours."

"Well that's all right, I will come with you, it is open to the public I presume. I think the clues in the name?" Trixie's temperament was still just simmering.

"Yes and that's what I was most afraid of."

Trixie stopped simmering and boiled over with passion,

"Bernie, I can not believe you of all people would think I could not be trusted for a couple of hours in some foisty old country boozer.."

In contrast to fiery Trixie, Bernie froze in horror at her own stupidity and self preoccupation, "Trixie that is the last thing I meant, that never crossed my mind. I am so sorry."

"What then?" spat out Trixie.

"It's me that cannae be trusted" confessed a contrite Bernie.

Bernie knew they were nearly home, she was still having problems explaining things to her friend, but had tried.

"So you are having it off with your boss?" Trixie had most definitely come off the boil now and was rolling around the passenger seat giggling.

"Trixie, you know that's not what I meant. We are just friends." Bernie was wishing Cynthia had air conditioning, it seemed very hot in the car.

"We are very good friends too Bernie, but you don't go all red when you say my name."

"Trixie behave yourself. I am trying to explain. We are just friends and we sometimes go out." Trixie smiled and nodded encouragingly, Bernie continued, "You know, to the pictures, bowling, maybe a meal, last week we went to Scarborough for the day."

"Sounds painful."

"It's a coastal town."

"So you have met this man, it is a man I take it?" Trixie asked for confirmation and Bernie nodded, "Who you go out places with and you have a nice time. Am I right?"

Trixie supposed she was and continued,"You obviously find him attractive.” When Bernie protested, she went on, "As I said you _obviously_ find him attractive. He must find you attractive or he wouldn't be taken you to Scaryboro or wherever."

Bernie searched for the words, but took too long.

"This may surprise you Bernie, but this is what most people want in life. Some people spend years searching for something as simple as this."

Bernie thought about Val.

"So why then, Bernadette, if you have found it, are you acting like you have killed someone?"

Bernie knew they would soon be entering the village, she pulled over into the siding.

"It's complicated."

"Is he married?"

"Of course not, widowed"

"Oh I am sorry."

"He has a son"

"And you don't get on."

"Yes we do actually."

"But you didn't let him ride on a donkey at the seaside and now he hates you."

"He is 17."

"Oh."

"Paddy is a wee bit older than me."

"I prefer older men."

"He was a pal of my dad's."

"Oh my goodness how old is he? Bernie I know you work with pensioners but you are not supposed to bring them home."

Bernie was now staring at Trixie without blinking. Trixie knew that it was she that had now crossed a line.

"Paddy is...very nice, as is everyone in Poplar. But I don't want you getting the wrong impression and going back to London and telling everyone that Bernie is loved up in the North and not coming back. Because that is not the way it is."

Trixie went to speak but thought better of it.

"Right," said Bernie, starting Cynthia again. "Welcome to Poplar-on-Tweaven."

  



	12. Bitter Sweet Symphony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and commenting whether revisiting old friends or making new ones.

**I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down. (Bitter Sweet Symphony, The Verve)**

Bernie released Cynthia's boot. Before it had fully sprung open, Trixie was hauling a large, battered walnut coloured suitcase into the back of Bernie's car.

"Trixie, I really think we may have fallen outside of the guidelines Matron Crane set." Bernie sighed slamming the boot door down.

"We are just helping an old lady do some recycling, what can be so wrong with that?" replied Trixie in the most innocent sounding tone she could muster.

Bernie wasn't feeling so innocent, "If Patsy hears you refer to her as an old lady, Phyllis will be the least of your worries."

The friends waved at the Two Loves, seeing them off from the Mount Busby farmhouse door and walked either side of Cynthia and got into the car. Bernie wasn't ready to leave it there, "What are you going to do with a bunch of forty-year-old frocks anyway?"

Trixie reprimanded her, "Vintage, you philistine, they are vintage!" Bernie was not impressed. The fashionista added, "Oh I am sorry, vintage probably references wine for you, now you are in the pub trade."

Bernie decided not to argue, so far she had managed to avoid taking Trixie to the Crown. Evie had covered her Sunday shift. She had explained to Paddy last week that Trixie didn't do breakfast, unless you included four coffees and three roll-ups. So Bernie concluded there was at least some reward in being a coward; a porridge-free week.

It was Tuesday, the night Bernie usually worked. Paddy had said he would cope without her, but then had added with an impish grin, "Only as a barmaid, that is."

She felt trapped, Trixie was itching to visit the pub and not so she could revisit her old demons, but Bernie's new ones. Paddy hadn't put any pressure on her as he had promised. He had given her time alone to catch up with her friend. He had texted her every morning and night and a couple of times during each day; hardly the behaviour of the over-possessive. Bernie wasn't sure if she was giving him too much credit for this, as Paddy's text vocabulary ran to, _hi, night, uok_ and _xx_ x.

Bernie had realized Trixie had been trying to get a reaction when she had asked her if she was embarrassed about Paddy. She was surprised at her own anger at Trixie for suggesting such a thing. The last few weeks had passed so quickly, she hadn't had time to stop and consider her actions.

She had accepted Paddy's awkward invitation to the cinema, because her vocal chords, where Paddy was concerned, had stopped connecting with the word _no._ They hadn't actually watched a film. Stood in front of the imposing movie timetable, full of titles neither of them had heard of and actors they did not recognise, they had admitted defeat.

Bernie had tempted Paddy over to a nearby Mexican restaurant. He was reluctant as it was part of an international chain and he was therefore about to compromise his principles for her. It was busy and the service was slow, much to Paddy's annoyance and expectation. It had given them time to talk though. Bernie shared a bit of her life in London and her work with the mission and even touched on her dream of starting her own retreat.

Paddy talked mainly about Timothy, his son's academic and musical achievements and sporting prowess. He had gone on to reflect on the boy's support and contribution to patching together some resemblance of a family since Marianne had died. Frustratingly for Paddy they had enjoyed their meal. The kiss goodnight was much more chaste and tender than the heated exchange in the pub. Bernie knew she should have ended it there, but she hadn't.

Bowling had followed with Tim and Jack, which had been much more enjoyable than Bernie had expected. Jack had promised to wipe them all off the board and failed to knock down a single pin. It had been Paddy in the end that had been the clear winner. He put it down to having had years more practice than anyone else. Bernie was starting to notice Paddy never accepted credit for anything, he was always self-evasive and reflected the light back onto someone else.

The main topic of the evening had been the size of Bernie's tiny feet and how the hired bowling shoes had given her clowns feet. Tim and Jack populated social media with this image with various filters. Paddy and Bernie used this time for a quiet cuppa in the alley's cafe and Bernie rewarded Paddy's bowling achievements with a golden straw, sneakily stolen from the Slush Puppy stand.

What followed consisted of trips out, walks, meals for two and tickets to see a dodgy tribute band. Neither of them had been able to clarify, who the group performing were supposed to be a tribute too. All the same, they had laughed, sang and danced all night. At work there had been looks and smiles and winks. Secret touches and stolen kisses behind the bar.

Bernie had noticed all this. What she hadn't noticed was, that she now woke up ten minutes earlier in anticipation of a good morning text from Paddy. She put the new make-up she had bought and those few bits of clothes in the sale down to a whim. The singing to herself was obviously due to all the good songs on the Crown jukebox. She never acknowledged she longed for the weekend and Tuesday was now her favourite day. She hadn't made note of how she looked for the pink rose in the lager bottle each morning. It had never occurred to her she was adding a spoonful less honey to her porridge. Bernie had failed to notice she was happy.

Phyllis Crane peeked through the kitchen door of her picture perfect Poplar-on-Tweaven cottage. She saw the young woman with the almost auburn hair and black rimmed glasses sitting on her settee.

Her hands were in her lap and the smartly dressed girl was looking at the pink polish on her nails with suspicion. Phyllis had never seen Bernie wear nail varnish and had a good idea who the instigator of this small addition was.

"You will be late for your shift, if madam takes much longer," the nurse warned Bernie. The younger woman smiled at Phyllis and raised her eyebrows.

"I am not working tonight, Paddy said he could manage. I just thought it would be nice to make an appearance, just in-case it gets busy later."

Phyllis smiled, "He is very lucky to have you."

Bernie blushed and Phyllis to ease her friends discomfort added, "Has he met your company yet?"

The redness drained from Bernie's face, "No."

Phyllis knew Bernie was a polite girl. She also had learnt over the last couple of months, that when she received a one word answer, it was best to leave the conversation right there. Bernie hadn't mentioned anything to Phyllis about the village's latest gossip, Bernie's relationship with her other employer. Phyllis had decided not to refer to it until the lass was ready. Secretly she was optimistic. Bernie had turned out to be one of her most accomplished carers with a keen eye for a potential problem. She had become fond of her. If dating Paddy Turner, who Phyllis had always had time for, meant Bernie stayed in Poplar-on-Tweaven, then this romance definitely had her blessing.

"Well I dare say, you might make last orders." Phyllis chuckled kindly and Bernie responded with an appreciative smile.

Both their smiles slowly turned into open mouthed gasps. as their eyes turned to the living room door. Trixie stood within it's frame in a scarlet jumpsuit secured around one shoulder in a large bow.

Bernie was the first to restart her temporarily suspended phonetic activity of speech,

"Trixie we are going to the local pub on a Tuesday, not Friday night at the Bigg Market in Newcastle. This is not Geordie Shore pet."

Phyllis tried very hard to conceal a snigger at Bernie's horror and resulting sarcasm. Trixie didn't blink,

"This item, I will have you know, is by True Decadence and it's the first chance I have had to wear it. The one previous owner spilt pinot noir down it and handed it in to their local charity shop. Fortunately, I am on good terms with Sebastian who runs that particular establishment. He messages me if anything salvageable comes in and I get it for next to nothing, because most people wouldn't make the effort to save it. Fortunately having spilled a few glasses of pinot noir in my time, I have skills."

Phyllis dropped down on her settee as Bernie rose from it, both in exasperation. She had previously not been totally enamoured with her most recent houseguest. Trixie's complete dismissal of Bernie's and her own misgivings, warmed this multilayered woman's heart.

Phyllis responded, "Well, lass, if you have gone to all that trouble and I must say you do look very well turned out, you go and visit the Crown Inn, the place could do with a touch of class."

Bernie turned and stared at Phyllis eyes wide and the older friend responded with a playful wink.

Trixie had refused Phylls' offer of a cardi and the host had ushered the pair out of the door into Poplar-on-Tweaven's high street. Trixie full of expectation and Bernie full of reservation. She watched the young women totter down the village main thoroughfare, well Trixie tottered as her 6 inch heels met cobblestone for the first time. Bernie linked her in an offer of friendship and stability.

When Bernie had asked if her friend from the mission could stay a couple of nights, Phyllis had only been too glad to accommodate. She hadn't expected Trixie. Every light in the cottage seemed to be in use constantly, causing Phyllis to remark her home was lit up like Blackpool _bloomin_ illuminations. All the hot water gone by 10 o'clock, flakes of baccy everywhere and constant chatter. She had been concerned that a _godbothere_ r from the mission might tempt her lodger back to London sooner than anticipated. It was not often Matron Crane got more than she had bargained for. Phyllis also knew her fears over Bernie returning to London were mostly selfish.

Phyllis Crane RGN had lived most of her adult life alone and had been quite content with her own company and never questioned it. These last few months with Bernie had been much more pleasant than she had ever imagined. Years ago she had hated the impersonal nurses' accommodation during her training in Leeds. Later she made the best of the unimaginative military married quarters during her all to brief marriage to a member of the Royal Air Force. Following Sean's death in 1982 she had returned to the village of her birth, a young staff nurse and a young widow. She had found work at the district hospital at Appleby Thornton and rapidly rose up the ranks.

Finding herself mired in bureaucracy in hospital management, Phyllis had put her untouched widow's pension and savings to use with her skills and experience to open her own Care Home. Years later, It had been the visit of the Keville family, enquiring about residency for the proud and most senior member of their clan that had ignited a new idea in Phyllis. Antonia was not without capability and with a little support could continue living at home, at least for a while.

With shameless poaching of her most trusted staff and the addition of fresh eager faces like caring Bernie and eager teenager Lucille Anderson. Phyllis at an age many started considering retirement, found she could run her home care business from her cherished cottage. Only intervening when she was needed to.

She had been both sad and proud, when Lucille had been accepted to do her nurse training, on Matron Crane's reference and wondered if she might ever see the girl again. It just so happened one of the last things Bernie did at Saint Preservus was appoint Lucille as choir leader. Phyllis had never been a church goer, but Lucille always called in to see her old mentor, either before or after choir practice and church services.

Phyllis had never looked for another relationship after she lost Sean during the Falklands conflict. It hadn't been her intention to remain single. The nurse had just got on with her life and hadn't met anyone who had made her ask for more than she already had. Developing such a close relationship with at first Lucille and now Bernie had made Phyllis ask a few questions of herself that had never previously perplexed her.

Phyllis would have instinctively cared for Bernie, she had known her since she was a child. She remembered her arriving with her father from Aberdeenshire, after the death of the girl's mother, as he took over duties at Saint Preservus. The fact that Wilf had asked her to keep an eye on his beloved daughter had only made her more willing. Bernie of course did not know this neither was she aware that after a few too many whiskies, after a parish council meeting. Wilf had proposed to Phyllis. She hadn't took it seriously and her main concern had been keeping their friendship on track and preventing further embarrassment. Only Paddy Turner had been witness to the malt fuelled declaration of love and Phyllis knew Paddy had a strict policy of _what happens in the Crown, stays in the Crown._

It was only after her friend's untimely death, as Wilf was only a decade older than her, Phyllis had revisited that one-off occasion and pondered on it. She was not a believer in fate, she believed you created your own future. Would she have been too old to share a life and home with another human being, even one she liked and admired as much as Wilf Mannion? What would it have been like and what of the differences in their beliefs? Phyllis knew she was not cut out to be a vicar's wife. But would that matter if two people found comfort, companionship even love with one another?

She watched Trixie and Bernie nearing the Crown. She had never seriously considered Wilf's intentions because she had set ideas of what a life with him would involve and she also had set ideas of what she wanted her life to look like. When she saw Bernie hesitate before entering the Crown, Phyllis suddenly felt a pain in heart and a wave of compassion for Wilf's daughter, as she led her friend into the old alehouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to lovely loyal international readers for very British reference; for Newcastle's Bigg Market, insert city of your choice and area popular for hen nights and for Geordie Shore insert reality series filmed in similar setting.


	13. Chelsea Dagger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You still here! I am so glad. Thank you for reading.

**I said tell me your name is it Sweet? She said my boy it's Dagger. (Chelsea Dagger, The Fratellis)**

Three hundred millimetres of tungsten flew through the air and pierced a small red patch of cork. Jack swore as Tim Turner walked towards the dartboard and retrieved his arrow from the double top. He turned and saw his father behind the bar looking at his mobile. Tim shook his head as he moved towards his dad.

For as long as he could remember he had tried to get his father to make more use of current technology with no avail. In the last three days he had hardly seen Patrick without the unfamiliar 21st century phenomenon in his hand. Tim thought he should be thrilled that his father had finally embraced the digital age, but in all honesty, his dad was driving him crazy.

Paddy saw Tim moving towards him, "I think it's broke."

Tim rolled his eyes, "She is just busy, we have been through this before Dad. She works all day and her friend is here from down South."

"No, it's definitely broken, I will send another text, just to check."

Tim hollered. "No! Don't hassle her, be cool, at least try Dad." Paddy wasn't convinced, but Tim continued, "when did she last reply?"

"This morning."

"What did she say?"

"C U later x"

"Fair enough."

"Yeah, but what does that mean?"

Timothy breathed heavily and rubbed his eyes with his hands, "See S-E-E, You Y-O-U later."

"I know that, I am not a complete numpty," Paddy snapped, "What does she mean by see you later?"

Tim, as tall as his father, bent forward as talking to a small child, "Well she could mean tonight or she could mean soon."

"Right," said Paddy.

"Do not text her Father, do not." Tim looked over at Jack who was vigilantly cleaning the remains of his and Tim's darts match off the chalk scoreboard. He turned and smiled at Tim and the younger Turner rolled his eyes and puffed out his cheeks.

Paddy rested his phone on the bar, "Tim you do like Bernie, don't you?"

"Dad everyone likes Bernie, she is alright, what's not to like," Tim reassured, "Just don't mess it up Dad."

Tim saw Paddy look towards his mobile and the teen made a grab for it, he was quicker than his dad and put it in his jeans' back pocket.

"You get this back when she comes in," Tim smirked and Paddy, who was actually feeling a shot of relief at not having the teasing accessory at hand let it go.

Tim's acceptance of Bernie was very important to Paddy. He hadn't seriously been out with anyone since Marianne died. He didn't count the incident at a drinks company conference where they had been a little to liberal with the free samples. Paddy had been horrified to wake up in a strange hotel room with a very attractive and chirpy redheaded thirty something. The thumping headache, partial amnesia that lifted gradually and inconsistently had scared the testosterone out of him.

A rather awkward full English followed, then a tentative exchange of phone numbers. It all culminated in a rather chaste kiss on the cheek, contrasting with the intermittent memories that returned at random to Paddy's brain. The innkeeper had never indulged in rum of any colour since and the mere smell on serving made him dother.

Paddy had not been looking for love or even a significant other. It had crossed his mind that it would be nice to have a bit of female company occasionally, but he was always working. If the Crown wasn't demanding his attention, he was focused on his son. Tim's future and well being was his priority, not his own.

As elsewhere in the world, the Crown was not suffering from a drought of available women of a certain age, Paddy's age. He occasionally indulged in an after hours tipple with Stella Gillespie, but this behaviour horrified Tim as the divorcee's daughter, Caroline, was at Tim's college. So Paddy had been reluctant to take things any further, always mindful of his son's happiness.

When he had learned Bernie Mannion had returned to Poplar, he remembered a young charming girl, who had rarely frequented the Crown. She had occasionally accompanied her dad for a meal. Wilf was keen on a Parmo, but Bernie had thought the combination of chicken, bechamel sauce, breadcrumbs and cheese a wee bit unhealthy. Paddy of course was in turn an infrequent visitor to Bernie's world. Still he paid his respects at most of the parish funerals, as he knew everyone in the district by name or by sight. He was invited to his fair share of weddings and christenings, often finding himself supplying the hospitality afterwards.

The reverend's failing health changed all that. Paddy became a frequent visitor at the Manse, checking in on his old friend, and Bernie began to accompany her father on his less regular visits to the Crown. Wilf still took his parish council duties seriously as he did his religious role. His commitment to his obligation to the wider community left the clergy tired and frail and his daughter frustrated and helpless. Paddy and Phyllis knew Wilf's stubbornness better than most and offered the vicar as much support as two non-believers could. They also saw the strain on the vibrant young woman who had got off the train from Kings Cross and had become weary and withdrawn due to worry.

It had been Paddy who all those months ago had invited a lost looking recently bereaved Bernie into his pub. He had made her breakfast and more importantly gave her an unlikely space to grieve. Neither of them expected it to become a regular event. Paddy was as surprised at seeing Bernie behind the bar, as she was to find herself there. Paddy had no intention of kissing his new employee and doubted she would ever kiss him back. He had never expected her to agree to go to the pictures with him or anywhere else for that matter.

He had been relieved when Bernie had decided on a meal instead of a film. He hated popcorn and was dreading having to share a bucket. He also wasn't very good at sitting doing nothing and he considered watching a screen for over one hour doing nothing. Then there was the awkward decision of where to sit?  _ Did he hold her hand, put his arm round her, place his hand on her leg? What was acceptable now on a first date?  _ He had to admit he had no idea. He had been convinced she was going to call it a day after the meal, but she hadn't. With each date he became more optimistic, noticing every blush, catching every glance, discovering that secret smile and those intensifying kisses. Bernie had kindled a flame inside him in a place that for so long had refused to burn.

The gig had given him hope, he knew Bernie liked music she seemed to know the words to every song on the jukebox, whatever genre or era. He thought she had a stunning singing voice. putting it down to all those Sundays singing hymns. The music had seemed to put her at ease and Paddy had found her at her most relaxed. The three bottles of pomegranate and star fruit cider may have helped. It had been her who had pulled Paddy onto the dance floor of the small venue, giggling shamelessly due to the quality of the musicians on the nearby stage.

Paddy had been mortified as it had been him who had received the tickets from Fred Buckle. He had got them free from the venue as he provided the ale. Fred had said it wasn't his cup of tea, ten minutes in, Paddy suggested that they leave and find a cup of tea. Bernie had been adamant they should stick it out and make the most of it. He hadn't been that close to her physically since that first night in the Crown. Smooching like a couple of teenagers at a school disco, he was glad he hadn't been recognized by anyone. He was doubly thankful Tim was still not old enough to be admitted into the venue.

So why was he itching to get his phone back of Tim? When usually he hadn't the faintest idea where it was and rarely missed it. Why was he feeling so insecure? When they were alone together, living in the moment, she was animated and bubbly. If only it could be like that always. Paddy had tried not to notice her reaction every time he or someone else mentioned the future, whether it be imminent or distant. Bernie would disappear within herself and he felt her turn away from him. The conversations were normally inconsequential and work based, such as deciding the Crown Christmas fayre menu. Bernie would just shrug her shoulders and decline to contribute, muttering it had nothing to do with her.

Paddy had been pleased to hear a friend would be visiting from Bernie's previous home, he thought it was an indication she was becoming more settled in Poplar. Bernie however used every mention of Trixie to talk about London, making Paddy's belly go cold.

It was a slow Tuesday night, even slower because Bernie wasn't there. Paddy looked around the room, Tim and Jack had restarted their paused dart's match. A quartet of farmers were playing dominoes, three teens were challenging the quiz machine. Paddy received frequent requests to install a cash fruit machine, but he had himself removed the one that had stood in that spot previously. 

Shortly after the Turners had arrived, he had watched one of his favourite customers, Dougie Roberts, who loved to play the machines, slowly morphing from a happy-go-lucky lad to something a little more worrying. It had been Fred, a friend of Dougie's, that had highlighted to his new customer that the flashing neon dalek was a magnet, in an area of high unemployment and redundancies, to those desperate for a bit of extra cash and plenty of time on their hands. Paddy knew his brewer liked nothing more than to put on his Round Robin wager each morning at his regular bookies. Paddy surmised this wasn't the warning of a sanctimonious do-gooder, but the voice of experience. He contacted the supplier to replace it with something less lucrative but without a guilt edge.

_ This is how Tuesdays used to feel  _ thought Paddy. The Crown door opened steadily and ten pairs of eyes focused and then widened as two young women walked in. All twenty eyes lit up like a blast furnace. Eighteen were transfixed on a blonde haired stranger in a red jumpsuit. Two that shone more brilliantly than the rest, set on a smaller darker haired figure. She was wearing black rimmed spectacles, a mauve shirt rolled up at the sleeves to just above her slim wrists, decorated with a simple bangle on one and a plain man's watch on the other. The well ironed deep blue jeans, almost bearing a crease, rested on the black ballerina pumps.

Both women were conscious of the stares, one took it all in her stride, she expected nothing less. The other turned the colour of her friend's jumpsuit and attempted to look anywhere but towards _ his _ gaze. If she saw how pleased he was to see her, she would feel awful for avoiding him lately.

Jack broke the deadlock, "Bloody Hell!"

Paddy switched his gaze from Bernie to Jack with a little less fondness. Jack retreated back to the dart board with a, “duh-du-duh, duh-du-duh, du-duh-du” and another glare from his boss. Bernie ushered Trixie to the bar. Paddy lent forward towards Bernie and whispered,

"I texted you?"

"Yes."

"I don't know if I messaged too much," Paddy gave a sharp look at Tim who was pretending not to listen. "Or not enough."

Bernie's serious face broke into a smile, "You just about got it right."

A sharp cough interrupted the newly created universe for two. Trixie wasn't used to being ignored. She had perched her perfectly toned posterior on the end bar stool; Bernie's stool. Bernie tried to pull herself out of Paddy's stare, but she was far too slow. The visitor decided to introduce herself,

"My name is Beatrix, but people call me Trixie." She extended a long languid hand across the bar. Paddy took it squeezed it gently and replied,

"I imagine they do," with a glint flashing across his dark green eyes and a turn of his mouth, that made Bernie in equal measure want to burst out laughing and push Trixie off _her_ stool.

Trixie didn't need to find a response to Paddy's disarming reply because a squeal broke through the tension,

"Is that Total Decadence? I love that colour." Val had appeared from the storeroom with a box of straws. "I saw one in my aunties catalogue and thought about getting it on the never-never, but it wasn't the quality of yours."

Bernie shot Paddy a confused glance. Paddy started waffling sensing Bernie's displeasure,

"Val offered to come in, she had nothing doing tonight."

"I would have come in if I had known you couldn't manage without me," Bernie was hating the indignant tone in her voice, but didn't know how to remove it.

Fortunately for Bernie, Val had the hearing of a school teacher and although thoroughly absorbed in a conversation about fabrics, cuts and shades with her new and instant friend, she honed in on the tension between Paddy and Bernie.

"I need the money Berns, I am saving up for a new jumpsuit." Val winked at Bernie who thought about it for half a second and then burst into giggles. Paddy remembered his lungs were for breathing and added,

"Wouldn't want to deprive Valerie of another Onesie would we."

"It is a jumpsuit!" yelled the only three women in the Crown.

Paddy put down the pub phone, "Right then, that was Vi. She is at Mount Busby Farm, she has booked us in for Thursday. Val you said you would be alright to cover the Crown with Jack." Paddy looked at both his staff alternatively and they nodded in sequence.  "Evie has agreed to come in and do a snack menu, otherwise the kitchen will be closed."

Paddy was finding it hard to focus as Bernie's smile relayed all the excitement building up inside her. If he had known she would be this thrilled, he could have arranged this weeks ago.

"So Vi says there is already a couple booked in," everyone responded with some form of exclamation at this news. Paddy continued, "so then there is Vi and Fred, our guest Trixie and Phyll, Chummy and Peter, me and Bernie and Tim..."

"Whoa no I never agreed Dad, not me, I am helping Jack."

Everyone turned and looked at Tim who went a bit blotchy as only teenage boys do when they blush.

"Tim, this is a treat for Bernie's friend," Patrick snapped at his son. Bernie felt Paddy's seldom aired temper rising and Tim's sometimes solid stubbornness set in.

"That's OK Tim, we will manage, Reggie will be there," her voice was calm and cool enough to blow the boiler. The last thing Paddy wanted to do was upset Bernie, but he didn't want to let Tim off so easy either. Tim was starting to look smug and Paddy was starting to simmer. Bernie continued,

"So Reggie say's two to an alpaca. So Fred and Vi, Chummy and Peter, Trixie and Phyllis. Paddy would you mind going with Reggie, he usually just leads the way, but I am sure between the two of you it will be alright." Paddy frowned but remained silent as Bernie went on, "that leaves me to partner Lucille."

Tim made a noise no-one quite recognised, "Lucy is coming?"

"Yes, I just texted her while your father was on the phone, she is looking forward to it." Bernie replied so nonchalantly it was hard to believe that everyone else was biting their bottom lip. "So as I said, that means there will be 9 of us plus the other couple and Reggie."

Tim's voice came out falsetto, "Wait," he cleared his throat and continued in baritone, "I suppose since it is Trixie's treat, you know, I suppose, I have a lot of coursework to finish, but you know, I could make a sacrifice."

Paddy couldn't help himself, "Very noble of you son."

Bernie glared at him hoping he didn't destroy all her hard work in a single sling of sarcasm. She knew it was important to Paddy that Tim was included in some of their outings. Bernie also realized this was more of an issue for Paddy. He felt he needed to reassure his son he was still his main concern. Although Tim didn't seem to be concerned at all by the amount of time his dad was now spending with Bernie.

"Right so that's it Fred and Vi, Chummy and Peter, Trixie and Phyll, Paddy and Tim, Lucille and me, perfect," she remarked ticking off names on a beer mat.

She felt Paddy looking at her, she asked herself, had she done it on purpose, not reading out their names together? She reassured herself she had been trying to save embarrassing Tim any further, so she had linked the boy with his dad.

Val, always aware of every nuance in her bar, smiled and added, "Well you should all have a wonderful time, only sorry someone has to work." 

Everyone started to talk at once with a hum of anticipation. Paddy prepared another round of drinks as Trixie waved a twenty over the bar, insisting all her new friends had a drink. Ginger Beer for the boys, a glass of prosecco for Val, who swiftly made a mocktail for Trixie and Bernie. To the combination of fruit, juices and Bitter Lemon, she added a cocktail umbrella and a maraschino cherry that matched her outfit, for the newcomer. Meanwhile Bernie said she was happy with a straw and then asked Val to write down the measures for the new Crown Cracktail, plus what alcohol could be added if required. Paddy pulled half a Horringer Bitter for himself. Everyone took a moment to take a sip and then Trixie suddenly asked,

"What is an alpaca?"

  
  
  



	14. Keep the Car Running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all readers and kudos leavers and commenters (who I will reply to in due course, of course)

**Well you give us a reason to stop just for a while. Stop, stand and salute your style. (Cynthia, Bruce Springsteen)**

"Why are we always late?" Timothy Turner muttered. He absentmindedly deadheaded a pale pink crispy rose bloom from around the Crown door.

"She was fine this morning," Paddy looked up from under the dark green 1957 MG's bonnet.

"Why can't we just have a new car like everyone else?"

"This is more than just a car Tim. Angela is one of the family."

"Yes, she is old enough to be my grandmother," fumed Tim.

The tones of Talk Talk burst through the Turner tension. Paddy took his mobile out of his jeans pocket and threw the vibrating slab at his son. Tim was a better wicket keeper than his dad was a slow left-arm bowler, and caught his wayward full toss. He put a stop to the 80's synth-pop.

"Hi Bernie...no we haven't left yet...yes it's the car...Cheers."

Tim ended the call and looked at his dad with a grin, "Bernie to the rescue."

Bernie replaced her phone in her pocket and looked around at the vivid green fields, reflected in the shimmering Tweaven in the evening sun, complimented by the still clear distant hills. Then her gaze focused more immediately at the assembled party. Everyone seemed relaxed and unperturbed by their group being incomplete. She realized she had been the only one missing Paddy and Tim. She apologized to Delia for causing a delay to their evening's schedule. Bernie surveyed the crowd again as she climbed into Cynthia.

Trixie was deep in conversation with Patience Mount, both seemingly absorbed in each other's company. Lucille was animatedly describing her current nursing placement to Phyllis. Peter was stood over near the alpacas sharing a joke with Reggie and Fred. While Delia and Violet, on a folding table covered in a red and white checked cloth, displayed the tasty looking food pickings and drinks for later.

There were only two people that looked slightly uncomfortable. The youth minister had only been in Poplar a few months. A city boy, he had been convinced to take the post at Saint Presurvus by his young wife, seduced by the idea of rural living, dreams of fresh eggs and clean air. Unfortunately the chicken coop remained empty at the cosy cottage the couple rented from the Church. It was only on arrival in Poplar-on-Tweaven did the minister's wife discover her husband had been harbouring a dark secret. Tom Hereward was afraid of animals. All of them. Bobby Hereward's dream of creating a small hobby farm had hit a giant hurdle. She should have been aware of this, as in their previous small urban flat her husband had always broke into a sweat when asked to change George the goldfish's water.

Bernie felt a pang of guilt in her throat. Not so long ago she would have been the first person to befriend the new incomers. She had passed the time of day with the couple and they had seemed very friendly, but these days she declined the sociable tea and biscuits offered after Sunday service. Bernie always needed to get home to change her clothes to be ready for her shift at the Crown. The vicar's daughter's self doubt was lifted as she saw a familiar figure bounding over to the two spares at the gathering. Off-duty Sergeant Browne took the opportunity to lean down and welcome the nervous couple with a misaligned cheek-kiss and firm forearm squeeze each.

Bernie wasn't sure if it was her feelings of guilt over her lack of support towards the Herewards that was making her feel edgy. She may have just been picking up the vibes between father and son when she arrived at the Crown.

"Yay! It's the B.B." Tim smirked as Bernie pulled up and alighted her vehicle, "Breakdown Bernie at our service."

Neither Paddy or Bernie laughed. She opened the passenger door of the Ford Ka and pulled forward the front seat. Her heart missed a beat when she noticed a gaggle of empty and half empty coke bottles on the back seat and brushed them quickly under the driver's seat. Absolutely certain that Paddy would make the unlikely connection between the flat pop debris with her morning craving to remove the taste of porridge. She gestured to Tim to get in the back.

"You're having a laugh, I can't get in there," groaned the rangy teen.

"Well your dad is taller than you, so you will have to."

"No he is not." Tim started moving his flat downward palm between the top of his head and Paddy's. A gesture that didn't go down too well with his dad.

"Look, it doesn't matter who is taller, you are much the leaner, now get in." Bernie was also about to use the palm of her hand in a different gesture.

Paddy's displeasure with his son shifted slightly towards his date, "Tim and I weigh about the same, there is only a couple of pounds in it."

Bernie and Tim both turned and looked at Paddy and then at each other. The tension eased slightly as they both started to giggle.

Paddy realizing he was probably not going to win this one, moved toward Bernie and went to take her car keys from her hand. Bernie shot her hand down towards her hip.

"I will drive," Paddy said explaining his action.

"Naw you won't, your car is knackered, remember. I suggest you boys sort yourselves out, you can both sit in the back or in the front on one another's knee. Do whatever you want. One in the boot and one on the roof rack, for all I care. But I am leaving now."

"Bernie, it would be much easier if I drove and you get in the back," Paddy said in a tone that he believed to convey logic, but Bernie immediately filed under patronizing.

"Easier for who?" Bernie hissed, internal pressure rising from her chest like steam up her neck to redden her cheeks.

"Everyone."

"By everyone, you mean you and Timothy, the Turners, I take it."

"Bernie, don't be like that ..."

The Scottish pocket pressure cooker boiled over "I suppose it's easier for you also that I have to give up all my weekends and help you in your pub because you haven't made one wee bit of effort tae replace Ursula." Bernie's sealing gasket suddenly split as the heat rose, "Easier for you, that I have left my vulnerable friend in a field with wild animals and a load of strangers, wearing inappropriate footwear. Just tae make it easier for you."

Paddy looked at Tim and nodded for him to get into the back. Credit to the boy, he had enough sense to clamber in, even if he did huff and puff and curse a little.

Paddy slammed back the seat and got into the passenger side.

Bernie triumphantly marched around to the driver's side and got in position. Fortunately only Tim in the backseat noticed Val and Jack leaning on each other in hysterics just inside the pub door.

The adults decided the short drive to Mount Busby would have to be enough time to calm tempers. They thought it would probably be best for no one to speak for a while, giving each other the space to move on. That was in the front of the car, a very uncomfortable Tim suddenly broke the healing silence from the back with,

"Bernie, you don't have a roof rack."

The pressure cooker gave out an aggressive hiss. Paddy who was pitifully trying to suppress a smirk, started nervously flicking the tiny teddy hanging from the rear view mirror with his fingers.

"What are you doing?" Bernie snapped, "that is so distracting, I don't fiddle with your equipment while you're driving."

Paddy's smirk erupted into a bubble of laughter, "Don't let me stop you."

Bernie growled at him as Tim decided to drown them out with a new playlist on his phone.

"It's a toy, it's not equipment," Paddy was still chuckling.

"It's part of the car, therefore it is car equipment. A car that belongs to me. So leave Cynthia alone and please, keep your grubby mits to yersel'."

Tim's attention moved from listening to Good Charlotte to Bad Bernadette.

"Cynthia?" He queried.

"It's a long story," Bernie mumbled.

"Give us the revision notes then," Tim was intrigued.

Bernie sighed, she wasn't really in the mood for a game of Show and Tell, but relented reluctantly,

"A wee pal from London, she was always a real champ and would help me find ma way from A tae B when I struggled to find the right road."

Paddy chuckled, but Tim added, "That's really cool, is she like Trixie?"

"Naw, ask Trixie to get you from A tae B and you end up at W."

This time all three of them laughed at the same time and no one was irritated.

"Perfect name for a girl's car though," Paddy thought it was safe to join in.

"A girl's car?" Bernie responded.

"Well yes, it's a nice car, Cynthia is very cute, don't get me wrong, but she's a woman's car," Paddy added, playfully stroking her glove compartment.

"How is any car a girl's or woman's car?" Bernie spat.

Timothy groaned and increased the volume of the Foo Fighters to drown out the Crown quarrellers.

"Well, it's just the way it is," added Paddy as if it was obvious.

"As opposed to a man's car," Bernie wasn't done, "looks good, full of promise but rusty under the bonnet, unreliable and you still need a girl's car if you want to get anywhere."

"She does have a point Dad, the purpose of a car is transport." Tim shouted from the back to Bernie's delight. "Not one of these though Dad, I can't learn to drive in this. I would be laughed out of the dales."

Bernie's delight dampened, "Well I hope they don't give either of you a girl's alpaca by mistake at Mount Busby, or the news will be all over Tweavenside," she gave back.

They drove in silence again, a farmer in a large red tractor passed them. A regular at the Crown he acknowledged them enthusiastically. Bernie and Paddy managed to return a polite but less enthusiastic wave. Tim meanwhile made a pathetic attempt to hide, resulting in a loud crunch of plastic as his foot stamped on something behind the driver.

Bernie tensed and forced a cough. Silence returned.

Until Paddy suddenly yelled, "Bernie, it's just here on the right."

"I know where it is Paddy, I come at least once a week." A startled Bernie swung through the open farm black wrought-iron gates.

"You forgot to indicate," Paddy admonished.

Bernie choked on her reply, "There isn't another car or person for miles. Unless you were worried those wee sheep, munching happily two fields away, were going to jump the fence and make a dash for it."

"We are not the only ones expected here this evening Bernadette."

"Aye, but we are the only ones expected to be late. All the other buggers are already at the farm, via reliable transport of no specific gender."

"Yes, but it should be an automatic response to use your indicators when turning."

Bernie gripped the steering wheel tightly, "And it will be my automatic response to leave you all on your lonesome, next time your boy's car breaks down."

Tim had heard enough, "Did you two get married and not tell me? Sounds like the honeymoon is over whatever," laughing a little too loud at his own sass.

Bernie pulled up extremely sharp in front of the farmhouse, causing pebbles to fly and eyebrows to raise outside the Ka. Causing bottles to fly and a few bruises to raise inside the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those of you who are taking notice, will have spotted the Title does not match the song lyrics for this chapter. The song "Keep the Car Running" is by Arcade fire and has been covered by the Foo Fighters. The Arcade Fire original is on the Crown Jukebox playlist. 
> 
> This chapter is dedicated and inspired my good friend Roguesnitch and Cynthia. (I spelt it right this time)


	15. Stuck In The Middle With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are very loyal, it means a lot.Thank you for reading.

**Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right. (Stuck In The Middle With You, Stealers Wheel)**

  
"Right then, now that we are finally all accounted for," Delia Busby addressed the gathering at the paddock. Timothy looked embarrassed, Bernie looked furious and Paddy looked at his shoes.

"So Turners, everyone got into pairs while we were waiting." Bernie opened her mouth and then shut it again after a second thought and Delia continued, "I think Trixie you are the only one without a date." Bernie moved forward towards her friend.

"I'm with Paddy," Trixie swiftly responded. "Sorry, it was decided while you were absent, I think it best that I have someone stronger than me, just in case of any incidents," Trixie added, fluttering her false eyelashes with abandon. Bernie rolled her eyes and closed her god-given eyelashes.

"Looks like you and me Tim," Bernie looked around but Tim was no longer behind her and was surprised to see him talking to Phyllis.

"You see I don't really know what's going on Matron, it's just that Bernie seemed rather upset in the car and I think she might need someone to talk to, like another woman."

Phyllis Crane looked the young lad up and down with a wry smile on her face, "Such as myself?"

"Yes exactly such as yourself, not me. You see Dad was being a bit of a kno...numpty on the way over here."

"So let me get this straight young man, you would like me to walk with Bernie because of some traumatic altercation she was involved in, on the ten minute drive over here. The outcome of this would of course mean that Lucille would be without a partner."

"Not necessarily because I could then partner Lucille," Tim interjected quickly, "if she doesn't mind." Tim cast a shy glance in his prospective partner's direction.

"Do you mind?" Phyllis asked Lucille.

"No, I don't, but I do think we really need to get this party started, and if Bernie is in some distress as Timothy says, well it may be for the best. Although she does look pretty fine from over here."

"She does, doesn't she," nodded Phyllis ruefully.

"She isn't one to make a fuss, she hides a lot," Tim added knowingly.

Lucille and Phyllis both gave a nod and exchanged a glance.

Delia wanted to move things along before sunset, "Right, time to meet your alpacas, Reggie is going to bring them out one at a time. He knows these animals very well and has made excellent choices in teaming you up with the appropriate beast."

The word beast struck fear into Tom Hereward's heart. Bernie had noticed that Tom and his wife had been whispering throughout Delia's speech. Bernie perceived that this apparent rudeness annoyed Delia slightly and Phyllis a great deal.

"If you've got something important to say, would you mind sharing it with everyone, otherwise can it not keep until you get home." Phyllis' cool tone cut through the warm evening air.

The admonishment was met by uncontrolled sniggers, Tim's being the loudest followed by Trixie. An "awkward" came from Chummy's direction and a "be quiet" from Lucille aimed at Tim. Bernie stood next to Phyllis didn't quite know where to look and out of habit glanced over at Paddy. To her surprise he seemed to be the only one not amused by the incident, he looked like he had hardly registered the rebuttal.

Bernie tried to catch his eye but he seemed locked in a world of his own. Bernie felt a wave of regret wash over her. The argument in the car had been silly and she hadn't put up any fight when her friend had procured Paddy from her. Bernie kept staring until she burnt into Paddy's subconscious and he looked her way. He looked nervous, so Bernie made sure her smile was warm and Paddy responded in kind. Bernie mouthed "sorry," she wasn't really sure for what, maybe leaving him with Trixie for a full hour was enough.

Paddy shook his head and mouthed, "It was me."

Bernie shook her head back at him. When Phyllis remarked this behaviour was just as rude as whispering, Bernie stopped. This time Paddy did see the funny side and laughed.

Meanwhile Tom had come up to Delia and was now mumbling to her.

"Who the hell does he think he is, the bleeding alpaca whisperer?" tutted Phyllis,

Bernie gave a very uncomfortable looking Bobbie a reassuring smile. As Tom returned to his agitated wife, Delia reassured him not to worry and all would be well.

Reggie appeared from the paddock with a rich dark ginger thick coated animal with soft brown eyes set in a large round face.

Delia began, "Right, this is the lady we are taking out tonight. Fred you have always known how to treat a lady and Violet you don't take any nonsense, so this will be the perfect friend for you. She does like her men though Vi so watch her, she can be a bit possessive but she is great fun when she gets to know you."

Reggie handed a blue lead each to his uncle and friend, "Her name is Marlene."

A snow white alpaca about half the size of Marlene was next to be led out by Reggie. He had a brown muzzle and brown ears. Lucille couldn't withhold an exclamation of admiration.

"Well that's handy," continued Delia, "As Tim is a minor we have to give you a small one.” Tim who towered over Lucille looked completely embarrassed. “I am sorry Tim it's just the rules. And you have to walk with an adult, Lucille, you're doing your nursing now, so you must be an adult.”

Lucille nodded unable to speak or look at Tim. Paddy who had missed the first round of sniggers didn't miss any of his son's humiliation, as Bernie pleaded with him non-verbally to control himself while giggling herself.

Delia continued, "Tim this the youngest of our alpacas that we walk. Unfortunately he wasn't originally part of this herd. There was a little tragedy in his early life, but Marlene here accepted him and raised him as her own and now you wouldn't know the difference."

Reggie handed a green lead each to Lucille and Timothy both shaking for different reasons, "His name is Colin."

A tall golden alpaca a bit taller than Marlene, but less woolly with a slender face and bright eyes was brought over to Trixie and Paddy,

"Now you two are both tall and very well matched," Trixie beamed at Bernie and she responded by giving her a subtle flick of the V sign with the fingers of her right hand against her cheek. She hoped no-one apart from who it was meant for saw it, especially the Herewards. Not for the first time Bernie thought if it wasn't for God, her and Trixie never would have become friends. Trixie stuck out her tongue at Bernie and Phyllis muttered, "Now children, play nice."

Delia coughed loudly and continued, "But don't be fooled by his good looks," Trixie giggled and even Phyllis cracked a smile feeling the tension burning in her partner. "I am talking about the alpaca," Delia sighed, "He can be a bit of a naughty boy this one, especially where the ladies are concerned. So we tend to keep him away from Marlene. I am sure Trixie will keep him in check."

Reggie handed Trixie and Paddy a pale blue lead each, "His name is Christopher."

Bernie could see Paddy was nervous but wasn't sure it was the presence of imposing Christopher or flirty Trixie.

"Right, Officers your turn next," Delia said as another snowy white alpaca obediently followed Reggie towards Chummy and Peter.

“I hope you don't mind me saying but you two make a super team in keeping us safe in our beds of a night, but are somewhat a little bit of a mismatch in the height department. So we have gone for something in the middle.”

"Oh I say," replied Chummy, "I didn't think anyone had noticed."

Delia smiled, "He is quite the sweetheart this one, but can be a bit flighty at times, so you may need all your combined expertise to keep him in order, but he is ever so loyal and a bit soppy."

Reggie passed the expectant pair a black lead each. Bernie thought of all the guests Camilla did look the most excited, "His name is Jimmy."

Bernie herself was starting to get excited, it was her and Phyllis' turn next. Reggie brought to them an alpaca smaller than Paddy and Trixie's Christopher, but with a much thicker and looser coat with jet black and silver grey streaked through it and a mop of a fringe covered his right eye.

"Oh we've got a right salt 'n' pepper one here Bernie, just your type," Bernie didn't have time to protest as Delia went on.

"Right now this grand old gentleman is Tommy, he is the oldest of our alpacas he is a proper gent. As Reggie will tell you later, Alpacas are from Peru and Tommy prefers if you speak to him in Spanish. I can teach you a few words that would be helpful."

"Thank you, but that won't be necessary Delia, I think me and Tommy will get along just fine and have no problem understanding one another." Phyllis reassured taking one of the grey leads given to her and Bernie.

The final alpaca was led to the most nervous couple in the group. He was of medium height and slender build, a rich dark fleeced alpaca with a nice face. He gently made his way over to Tom and Bobby.

Delia proclaimed, "He is a good looking boy, but as quiet as a lamb, he is very well behaved, he will be perfect for you two, be just like pushing a pram." Delia giggled.

Bernie and Chummy gasped and Phyllis turned and winked at Lucille. The student took out a fiver from her pocket and tipped it toward Phyllis. The old midwife grinned with delight. Bobby blushed but looked thrilled and Tom looked as if he was about to complain, when he saw the long figure of Patsy standing behind Delia eyeing his every move and decided better of it.

Reggie held out yellow leads to a beaming Bobby and a flummoxed Tom. "His name is Alec."

Delia watched as Reggie lead the peculiar patrol off towards the Tweaven. She would have preferred some extra help for Reggie with such a large group, but she knew Fred was almost as familiar with the docile animals as his nephew and they were a sensible bunch. Her only concern was the minister, he had been trying to hide his own fears behind his concern for his wife's recent discovery. He might of succeeded for a while, fooling some of the party, but animals were more instinctive than humans and she was always wary of the nervous guest. Reggie had strategically placed them at the front where he could keep a close eye on them with Fred and Vi with Marlene bringing up the rear.

Near the buffet and drinks Patsy was arranging a stall showcasing her new Alpaca fleece range. The Alpaca's required shearing once a year and the women had found a reliable team to do this heavy work for them. Originally the fibre was sold on to manufacturers for the best price. They reserved a small amount to clean spin and dye for their own amusement and for the amusement of Lady Keville who enjoyed working with the wool. It had been Antonia who had questioned why the fleeces were sold on to another company to make woollen goods under someone else's name rather than Patsy's own very well known name. Delia one never to miss an opportunity soon pulled all kinds of strings and called in a few favours and _The Patience Mount Alpaca Knit Range_ was launched.

Patsy had created the designs herself with the help of an old contact in textiles. Delia watched as the artist carefully displayed the bags, scarfs, hats, socks on the table next to the throws. Delia noticed the rack holding the larger items of clothing moved seamlessly through the spectrum, no shade out of place. This little pop up market stall was Patsy's artist's pallet for the day. Delia never became tired of watching Patsy at work, but was interrupted from her contentment,

"What do you think of Nurse's friend, Deels?"

"The Londoner, Trixie? Seems alright to me. You've spent more time with her this week than me, thick as thieves you two are. If I didn't know better I would be green with envy?"

Patsy smiled and reassuringly kissed her on the cheek as if any reassurance would ever be needed.

"Well you know we are looking to break into some of the markets, down there, Covent Garden, Spitalfields, that sort of thing."

"Oh Pats I know where this is going, you’ve just met her, you don't know anything about her."

"Yes, I know but she needs something, something to believe in, so she can believe in herself again."

"She has that, she has God, isn't that where she knows Nurse from, a missionary or something like that, in deepest Deptford."

"That's Bernie's thing, it's her passion, but I don't think it's Trixie's. It's a safe place for her at the moment, a refuge if you will, but what happens when the novelty wears off."

"You need to talk to Nurse first, see what she thinks."

"I wasn't going to put her in charge of the company or anything so silly, but if we do get a stall she would be perfect or maybe just visiting possible outlets for us."

Delia shook her head as she arranged the spotless champagne flutes on the red and white table cloth. Patsy knew she had Delia's attention, "You can tell by the way she talks and conducts herself she had a good start in life, something obviously went wrong along the way, it often does, she just needs a second chance."

"Oh Pats I do love you, what's one more lame duck I suppose, I think our ponds just about big enough."


	16. Walkin' and Talkin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love they are crazy folk out there still reading many thanks.

**Well there's nothing I can tell you that you don't already know,** **I could tell you something but I won't. (Walkin' Talkin', The Men They Couldn't Hang)**

_Alpaca Marlene_

Violet Gee was glad Reggie had told her to bring her sunglasses. The late sun was making her squint even against filtered dusky lenses. She didn't mind though, she loved the sun, it was a different heat to the sometimes overbearing kind that filled Paddy's kitchen, especially on a Sunday. If she was honest, she didn't mind that heat either, she liked being busy and felt a sense of pride every time someone complimented the chef. Paddy and Val had all the relevant food handling certificates, but tended to leave her to it, unless she asked for help. It was the way she liked it. Things had been different in Evie's day. Vi and the previous landlady did become firm friends, but Evie knew exactly what she wanted on the menu and how she wanted it cooked. Their friendship became a lot less challenging after Evie retired.

Marianne Turner had been a different story altogether, she had tried to introduce so many new things. In Evie's day the vegetarian option had been a plate of veg and a Yorkshire pudding with gravy made from a vegetable stock cube. Violet had nothing against extending her range or testing her skills. If only Mrs Turner had appreciated the difficulty of sourcing some of the less familiar ingredients, especially in a region where sprouting broccoli was still viewed with suspicion.

It had all come to a head one day, it had been Fred who had found her in tears in the Crown kitchen. Later that day Paddy had asked her to join him in the snug. It had been Jenny then, that had brought her a half of cider and black. She had been vexed as Fred had promised not to say anything, or had she just thought he had promised?

It was then agreed that Mrs Turner's place wasn't in the kitchen. Paddy was more concerned about his wife, still not being able to satisfactorily pull a pint of Crown Cask Ale or put together a decent gin and tonic. After a second cider and black, it was decided that Marianne would focus on her bar skills. As a compromise she would create a new vegetarian option each month, which Violet would have the final approval of. She would also work with the chef ensuring all the appropriate allergy warnings were in place. Violet thought that was the day she fell in love with Paddy Turner, not in the way Marianne had been or Bernie was trying to convince herself she wasn't. In the way, that she knew she would never let him down.

Vi continued blinking at the lowering sun, "This is lovely Fred, I really don't get outdoors as much as I should."

"No it's not a bad auld spot," admitted Fred tickling Marlene behind the ear, "I was never indoors as a nipper, always out climbing trees, building dens, getting up to mischief."

"I remember there used to be an old tarzee along here. A piece of old rope with a tyre tied to it, dangling over the river on a rickety old branch," reminisced Violet.

"Aye, I fell in a few times."

"Oh Fred! You didn't, you are lucky to have survived in those days."

"No, it wasn't as clean as it is now I must admit, since the old steelworks closed down and the pit," admitted Fred.

"I thought all rivers were a murky grey, until I went to the Lakes on a school trip," Violet agreed,

"you didn't catch a salmon then?"

"No, more like the three day belly ache," Fred chuckled.

"Oh Fred, honestly," scalded Violet, changing the subject, "The Tweaven looks lovely tonight Fred."

"She will be here long after we are gone Vi. It doesn't matter what we throw at her or in her. The old girl has never let us down."

_Alpaca Alec_

Being from Bristol, Tom Hereward knew nothing about the North, apart from what Bobby had told him. Looking at his Wirral raised wife, he thought it was somewhere that only produced good things. His tenure at Toonmore hadn't been as successful as he had hoped. The Newcastle parish had been challenging, but he did think he had made some inroads, actually made a difference. His superiors praised his efforts, but felt he lacked experience. They noticed his most measurable impact had been with the Geordie kids. The young person's attendance had risen significantly since the Herewards had arrived, but it was not enough. They praised his mission to Tyneside, but gave the Toonmore parish to someone else.

As consolation he had been offered the role of youth minister. The Herewards headed down the A19 to a rural Parish, that could not make its mind up if it was in the county of Yorkshire or Durham. Maybe that was fitting for a clergyman who didn't quite know who he was anymore. He thought his new bride would be disappointed in him, but she wasn't. She was excited by the new challenges, the change in landscape, the making of new friends. There was a lack of optimism in Tom Hereward that Barbara Gilbert provided.

Tom had been prepared to be unimpressed by St. Presurvus, but there was a strong and regular congregation already in place, so unlike his previous inner-city experience. It was almost more daunting than empty pews. Both Reverend Julia and Tom soon confessed that their predecessor, Reverend Mannion, was a hard act to follow.

Tom kept his voice low so not to startle his hairy walking companion as he chatted to his wife,

"I was talking about the London Mission to Bernie Mannion's friend, while you were over with Lucille, sounds fascinating work, something you can really get your teeth into."

"Tom there is plenty to get our teeth into here," rebuked Bobby.

Alec gave Bobby a little nuzzle as if in agreement.

"Oh gosh, Bobby be careful, you don't know what it's been eating."

"Alec is a he not an it." Bobby replied giving Alec an affectionate stroke.

"Don't touch their back, Reggie said they don't like that, remember." Tom's voice was frantic.

"Tom I am nowhere near his back." Bobby thought for a moment and then continued,

"Did Trixie say anything about Bernie returning to London?" Tom reassured her that she had not. "I should have made more of an effort to get to know her by now."

"I think she is going home soon, doesn't seem worth it, unless we want to support the mission."

"Not Trixie daft lugs, Bernie. Rev Julia is quite concerned about her. She wonders if her fall in attendance at St Presurvus is due to her feeling that we don't want her there."

Tom raised an eyebrow, concern shadowed his face in the glowing sun, "Why doesn't Julia invite her round for a chat?"

"It's a bit awkward. Does she invite her to the manse? The house she grew up in with all those memories."

"Well her office then."

"Isn't that rather formal, remember that was Bernie's office for a few months. That's why I think we should make the effort, our cottage doesn't hold any baggage and your post is new."

"OK if that's what you think best. Oh no Bobby it's licking me."

"Aw Alec likes you." Tom's wife gently stroked the alpaca's attention back to her, to her husband's relief.

_Alpaca Jimmy_

Jimmy trotted along quite content, he was enjoying Chummy and Peter's equal affection.

"Can you hear that humming Peter?"

"Reggie said that was a good sign didn't he?" Peter nodded.

"I believe he did, marvellous," Chummy beamed.

The Team Jimmy contentment was soon interrupted, when Peter spotted a familiar figure over the river.

"Is that Dodgy Dave?" Peter squinted to see across the Tweaven.

"At ease Constable," ordered Chummy, "we are on a date of sorts. Relax, he is packing up anyway."

"But Sarge, he doesn't have a fishing license."

Camilla smiled observing her alpaca partner, become her police partner again, "What do you suppose to do, swim over and arrest him. Or maybe jump on little Jimmy's back here, and gallop round to the Tweaven Bridge?"

Peter had to admit his sergeant was right. He felt abashed, it was sort of a date and he hadn't meant to interrupt it. He sensed an irony in his behaviour, when he remembered the subject he had hoped to broach on the trek. For a while now, he had been questioning his future in the police force, but had said nothing to Camilla. Their secret relationship was affecting both their careers.

He had accepted his decision to put the skids on his own progress, but he had not realized his partner was also being held back. This was due to her determination to stay in Tweavenside working alongside Peter. The Constable's contemplation was interrupted not by gentle Jimmy, but by Chummy, who was lost in her own thoughts too.

"I wouldn't consider myself an envious person," Chummy began, "but I do feel a rather reluctant green eyed monster, when I see dear Patsy and Delia and also now Bernie and Paddy. It must be wonderful not to have to hide your feelings in public."

Peter knew this was the perfect time to tell her what he had been thinking, but Dodgy Dave had other ideas. Spotting his adversaries over the water, realising they were off duty and neither of them were part of the police diving team. The arrogant angler gave a cheeky wave.

Sergeant Chummy couldn't contain her amusement, "Oh I say, that's rather naughty."

PC Noakes was less amused and shouted over at Dodgy Dave, shaking his fist. The unexpected rise in noise and temper didn't amuse Jimmy either, as he let out a screech. Reggie was over like a shot, with a sharp word, for a repentant Peter and a comforting pet for Jimmy.

_Alpaca Colin_

Little Colin seemed to dance alongside Tim and Lucille. He playfully nudged his female lead every now and again and head butted his male lead on the other side.

"Good job they didn't give this character to the minister," observed Tim.

"Oh gosh no," responded Lucille giggling, "especially if Phyllis is right about Mrs Hereward."

Tim reddened slightly, then even more so, when he realized he had blushed. Lucille was generous enough to pretend not to notice and changed the subject.

"Did you see how Jimmy responded to Reggie when he got a little upset. Animals are such a good judge of character. I have always found people who work with animals to on the whole be very nice folk."

"I am thinking of studying Animal Science and Welfare at Uni." Tim was keen to mention.

Lucille wrinkled her nose and queried, "I thought you were applying to the Department of Computing, Media and Arts?"

"And animal science."

"Oh interesting." Lucille managed to whisper straight faced.

"I think it's important that animal welfare is a priority, especially when they are involved in film. And of course how they are portrayed in the media."

"I see." Lucille bit her lip. Colin then decided it was time to relieve himself following Tim's revelation. The party speeded up slightly as they heard Fred Buckle start coughing and laughing behind them.

Lucille felt it was time to change the subject. "Is your dad seeing Bernie Mannion?"

"Yep, apparently so. Why?"

"I didn't mean to be nosy, it's just there has been some talk at the church and I didn't know what to say, even though of course, I wouldn't say anything."

"Sorry?" Tim responded confused, "what kind of talk?" Tim bristled he wasn't quite sure why, but he didn't like the thought of people gossiping about his dad.

"Oh, nothing bad, I think people are just a bit surprised."

"Why?" The query was a little harsher than Tim had intended.

"Well, just with Bernie being a missionary and the previous minister's daughter."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"It's just you know, with your dad running a pub and not being a regular churchgoer, that's all."

"He is definitely an irregular churchgoer, he never goes. I don't see what that's got to do with anyone."

"Tim I didn't mean to offend you. Some people who have been at the church a long time, were just wondering," Lucille paused uncertain whether to continue and hesitantly added, "whether she was feeling a bit lost and well, Paddy was good to her dad."

"Why can't people mind their own business Lucy. Dad's happy, he is like a different person with Bernie around and she's a good laugh. It's better."

"I am sure it is Timothy. I shouldn't have mentioned it at all, it's just some of the choir, they miss her. She has a lot of friends in the church, they care about her. That's all."

"Well she belongs with _us_ now, they should have thought of that before they booted her out."

"Timothy it wasn't like that at all," suddenly Lucille felt like she was reprimanding a child. She had been born only two years earlier than Tim and she enjoyed his company, but at times two years seemed a lifetime, even more so since she had started working. She astutely decided to change her tone, "things have been difficult for everyone concerned. Change always brings challenges."

Colin aware that his new friends were somewhat preoccupied, decided to be adventurous and swiftly swallow a few spiders on route. Lucille was first to break the awkward silence that had descended on the previously chirpy threesome.

"I was hoping that maybe, you could persuade her to see her friends a bit more often, but I see I made a mistake, forgive me."

"Me, how?"

"We need someone to accompany the choir. I can't play and conduct. I know you play the piano and the guitar. I was wondering if you took on that role, maybe Bernie would comeback too."

"Not bloody likely," Tim began and then looked into Lucille's eyes, sparkling shades of russet and mocha in the evening sun. Her pretty mouth was pursed so that Tim could just perceive the dimples at the corners where her shell-pink lips met. "I am very busy preparing for Uni and I help Dad a lot at work, even though I don't drink or anything like that."

Lucille nodded, "Of course not." She held her breath for a second and let Tim continue.

"And I have recently been thinking of volunteering at the Homeless Hounds shelter." Lucille's smile broadened as he went on, "but I could maybe look at my schedule, move a few things here and there, but I am not promising anything."

"Thank you Timothy." Dodgy Dave wasn't the only one on the banks of the Tweaven that evening to have skillfully reeled in an unsuspecting catch.

Tim sighed and Colin gave him another playful headbut. And then consequently threw-up on Tim's trainers.


	17. The Open Window

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nice to see you again, thanks for reading.

**This is the only life for me. Surround myself around my own fantasy. (Keep Passing the Open Windows, Queen)**

**_Alpaca Tommy_ **

Phyllis was sure that if she and Bernie disappeared, Tommy would continue his journey. He would quite happily plod along with the others, in need of no human hand to guide him. He hummed quietly to himself as Phyllis occasionally whispered words of encouragement in his ear.

Bernie's mind was racing and so were her feet. Being short in stature she had adopted a fast walking pace as a child to keep up with her lankier mates. It had stood her in good stead more recently on walks with Paddy and Chummy, who both towered over her and took one stride to her two. Although Chummy had already won the grow toward the sun competition, Trixie was as tall as Paddy in heels as Delia and Reggie had obviously noticed.

Phyllis had picked up Tommy's natural rhythm quickly and the two moved along like a dog and its person, who had been together all their lives on an old familiar route. Bernie contrastingly was taking three quick steps forward and two abrupt ones back as she felt the tension increase in Tommy's lead. When not talking to Tommy, Phyllis took in the scenery around her commenting on various plants and tree species. Bernie smiled and acknowledged Phyllis but didn't offer too much in return. Phyllis had witnessed Bernie's dramatic return to Mount Busby with the Turners and picked up the tension between the three, even before Tim’s revelation.

"Are you alright lass? You’re awfully quiet this evening, did you and Paddy have a set too?"

"No." came the trademark one word Bernie answer when she didn't want to pursue a topic.

Phyllis nodded and patted Tommy on the neck, crooning soothingly, "Asi es hermoso," and Tommy hummed back. Maybe the sense of trust between Tommy and Phyllis loosened their companion's tongue.

"Well yes."

"I thought so, I don't mean to pry, it's just Mr Turner looked a bit disappointed, after being whisked away from you by madam back there." Phyllis gestured her head back in the general direction towards the following pack.

"I was probably a wee bit stroppy with him," Bernie confessed hesitantly.

"You?" Smiled Phyllis.

"Phyl, I am never stroppy," exclaimed Bernie. "Most days," she added with a sly grin. Phyllis' gentle teasing of her seemed to have the desired effect and Bernie relaxed.

"Honestly the way he carries on at times you would think we were an auld married couple."

"Nothing wrong with that," Phyllis added. Bernie raised an eyebrow, and the Yorkshire woman continued, "I was half of a young married couple once myself." She soothed Tommy again: "Que bueno estas caminando."

“Did you never think of becoming half of an old married couple?" Phyllis looked at her perplexed. Bernie cringed at her own words, "I mean marry again, of course." Bernie wondered if she should just put her foot in her mouth and leave it there permanently.

"I knew what you meant," Phyllis said sharpening the kindness in her blunt dialect.

Suddenly Bernie in the evening sun, the light emphasising her pale Celtic colouring and her golden almost auburn hair, to Phyllis the girl resembled her late father. She squinted at the recognition, it took her a moment to collect herself.

"I never met anyone I loved more than my job and my life. I was one never to settle for second best and would not expect someone else to do the same."

Bernie's heart raced faster than her feet were allowed, "Phyllis that is just how I feel, I can't imagine loving anyone more than God or being of service to him."

The older woman did not reply as keenly as Bernie had expected. When she did, she spoke slowly and incisively, but her tone was not without compassion. "Bernie, I am not a woman of faith as you know, but I think you may have misconstrued my meaning. I didn't say I couldn't imagine loving anyone more than the path I had chosen, it just never came to be. Which does not mean it couldn't have, if I hadn't been so determined or so blinkered at times."

"Are you saying you have regrets Phyllis?" Bernie had been taken by surprise by the response and wasn't completely sure she had understood.

"Oh lass, I am nearly twice your age, I could fill the Tweaven with regrets, but there is no point dwelling on them. But it would also be foolish not learning from them and passing on that wisdom if it is wanted." Phyllis looked into the shimmering river like it was a mirror and continued, "I have never ran or hidden from love. I maybe culpable of having overlooked or not recognized love when it was given me, but I've never purposefully turned my back on love."

"I don't want to be guilty of that either, but at times I wonder if I am doing exactly that by staying in Poplar and not returning to the mission. Trixie's visit and the Herewards arrival have unsettled me somewhat. What if God has opened a window that I am awfully afraid to climb through. I could use some of your strength and wisdom."

Phyllis took a deep breath of the warm late summer evening air. Her tone had become slightly sterner, "Forgive me if I speak out of turn, but what about Paddy? Where is he in all of this jumping out of windows?"

"We are just friends Phyll, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh don't give me that Miss, I am not as green as I am cabbage looking. You two are never apart. You are either at the Crown or gadding about somewhere." Phyllis saw the shock on the young woman's face and continued more softly. "I am not scolding you lass, but I reckon you both appear all the better for this _friendship_ from what I've seen."

"Are people talking about us?" Bernie's voice rose a notch, Tommy for once took his attention from Phyllis.

"What so precious about you? If they are talking about you, they are leaving some other poor beggar alone,"

"I think I need to talk to Paddy," Bernie added gravely.

"Patrick Turner is a good man, Bernie, he has had to bear a lot of heartache in his life, more than most folk around these parts know." Phyllis' stopped talking quickly, but when she spoke again her tone was urgent, "He does not deserve to be led on by some silly slip of a girl, that does not know a good thing when she sees it."

Bernie's pale complexion deepened and tears pricked her eyes like sharp pins. It wasn't just her tears that stung. Phyllis had always been kind, stern at times and always straight but never dismissive of her, her words had never contained anger.

"I would never lead a man on," Bernie rebounded with all the indignation she could summon, stunned at this accusation.

"I hope not lass, I hope not, but why look for an open window when there's a door the size of a barn already standing wide open."

"Ya veremos Tommy, ya veremos."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my lovely friend and translator eatapinkwafer.


	18. I Fought The Law

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the final alpaca chapter, Promise. Thank you for hanging in there

**Guess my race is run, she's the best girl that I ever had. (I Fought the Law, The Clash)** ****  
  
**_Alpaca Christopher_ **   
  
"How many alpacas do you think we could get on the London Eye?"   
  
"In each eye or in total?"   
  
"In each Eye? It's been a while since I was last in the capital, but as far as I know Trix, there is only one London Eye."   
  
"Yes I know, I am talking about the pods, they are called eyes, that's why it is called the London Eye Paddy."   
  
"They are viewing capsules, you doyle."   
  
"Excuse me I live in London and they are known as eyes and what's a doyle?"   
  
"You are. OK so let's not take the alpacas on the London Eye or eyes,” Paddy said firmly. Trixie pursed her ruby lips forming a perfect pout and frowned.   
  
"We could charge an extra ton a couple, on the Patrixie Thames Alpaca Sightseeing Walk, if we include the Eye, that's all I am saying."   
  
"Yes, who wouldn't want to pay an extra fifty quid each. For the pleasure of being stuck in a confined space for over half-an-hour with a non-house trained animal. Reaching heights of over 400ft." Paddy retorted trying not to laugh. "Look we have already taken the suckers- sorry tourists, to Westminster Abbey, Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament. I think we should definitely stay north of the river."   
  
Trixie had suddenly lost interest in the proposed new fantastical venture, her and her potential new business partner had been concocting during their less ambitious, but grounded in reality, walk along the Tweaven. She absent-mindedly added,   
  
"I wonder if Alpaca's can swim?"   
  
"Oh God, Trixie let's not find out, poor Christopher."   
  
"So when we start Patrixie Tours, I am definitely stealing Chrissie here," she grinned mischievously.   
  
She ruffled the alpaca's thick hair and tickled his soft ears. Christopher responded by nuzzling into Trixie. Delia had mentioned they could feed the alpacas on return to the farm. As far as Paddy could tell, Trixie already had Christopher eating out of the palm of her hand.   
  
"Paddy, you aren't even holding the lead."   
  
"I don't need to, you are having no problems leading Christopher on, from what I can see."   
  
"What if he makes a run for it?"   
  
"I don't think that's likely do you, I think he will probably follow you back home down the M1."   
  
"I'm on the train, sweetie."   
  
Paddy used his now free hands to set up his Orgasmic Orange vape pen much to Trixie's horror.   
  
"Paddy if I am not allowed to smoke, you are not allowed to omit that dreadful sickly stench."   
  
Paddy sighed and put the contraption clumsily back in his pocket. Bernie had been right about Paddy being somewhat apprehensive of partnering Trixie, he had really wanted to talk to Bernie and make sure that things were okay between them. He was well practised in talking to strangers and casual acquaintances, but he was usually behind a bar with a job to do. Walking with alpacas and a vivacious blonde was unknown territory and he felt slightly exposed. His apprehension quelled shortly after they set off. His companion was easy to talk to, tottering along the river bank in her 2 inch heeled silver ankle boots. The city girl hadn't been phased by the terrain or the livestock and took it all in her tentative stride.   
  
She seemed delighted when Paddy joined in her plans to start a Thames alpaca walk and he soon found out she had a fondness for frivolity and farce, which he found amusing. It hadn't took a country mile for the opening synthetic smiles and coy chuckles to give way to laid back unfettered laughter.   
  
"It is very beautiful here," Trixie exclaimed taking a deep breath of Poplar air, as if she wanted to store it in her lungs for later. "I can see why Bernie is such a gentle person growing up here."   
  
"Gentle!" exclaimed Paddy.   
  
"Yes don't you think so?"   
  
"I had never really thought about it," Paddy replied now twiddling awkwardly with the loose lead.   
  
"Well you obviously know Bernie a lot more intimately than I do, so maybe I should defer to your greater experience." Trixie let out taunting giggle.   
  
Paddy didn't bite. He had a teenage son and was used to being baited and then of course there was Val.   
  
"I suppose she is, her patients think the world of her and so do our customers. She is definitely a contrast to my other barmaid, it works well. She can stand up for herself though Trixie, no doubt about that," the journey from hell replaying in his mind.   
  
"I was meaning in the way your river here is gentle, but you could still drown in it." Trixie smirked girlishly, but her eyes had a more knowing expression.   
  
Paddy was starting to feel slightly out of his depth in Trixie's metaphor, so decided to change the subject. "So who worked for the mission first, you or Berns?"   
  
"Bernie." The answer was one Bernie herself would be proud of, dull and straight to the point.   
  
"Then you got the calling, quit your life of plenty, gave it all to the poor and headed for the East End to minister to the masses." Paddy attempted to bring the levity back that he had somehow unwittingly killed.   
  
"Something like that." Trixie's reply didn't convince him he had succeeded in resuscitating the evening.   
  
"Sorry I just wondered, I know Bernie's story. I've known her since she used to catch the school bus," Paddy wished he had phrased that differently, but it did make Trixie smile again. "The village had always expected her to work for the church in some capacity or other. You however you're just, well you're not what I expected."   
  
"Bernie saved my life" Trixie added again abruptly and lacking in any identifiable emotion.   
  
Paddy remembered Bernie saying as much the night things had changed between them. From nowhere the young woman continued,   
  
"I used to visit the mission not for spiritual nourishment," she sniggered coldly, "but the usual basic type, food, warmth, security."   
  
"Bernie was always very kind, even back then I noticed there was something different about her. She was really committed, it was obviously not a gap year filler or a works experience opportunity to plump up a tired CV. She really wanted to be there."   
  
Paddy felt a wave of gloom pass through his heart.   
  
"I was taking the piss really, I pretended to read all the leaflets they gave me and even let them pray with me. I joined in all the hymns, I like a sing song. I know all the Shed End songs at Stamford Bridge." Trixie teased trying to lighten the mood again.   
  
"We have a karaoke machine somewhere, I will get Jack to find it when we get back to the Crown." Paddy smiled wondering whether to leave it there, but his curiosity got the better of him. "So what changed? How did you go from taker to giver?"   
  
"Paddy, you are funny. Most people ask how did I get from Benenden School for girls to Bethnal Green."   
  
"Anyone's life can implode, Trixie, anyone's." Paddy added wistfully. He hadn't wanted to pry and was feeling selfish, this practical stranger had so far been honest with him, he felt it only right to reciprocate. "It's just I thought if I could get my head round your conversion experience, I could maybe understand Bernie's faith more and why at times she lets it come between us."   
  
"Like a virgin with a crucifix." Trixie exclaimed with raucous laughter alarming both Christopher and Paddy for different reasons.   
  
"Not quite, Trixie." Paddy was wishing they were still discussing packing alpacas into a giant ferris wheel.   
  
"I am sorry sweetie, there wasn't really a Road to Damascus moment, it was rather a road to Dagenham. I was actually running not walking along that road. I had a Plod behind me, not one of the regulars but a Hobby Bobby, desperate obviously to make his first arrest."   
  
"What the hell had you done?" Paddy looked around nervously hoping Chummy and Peter weren't in earshot.   
  
"It wasn't so much what I had done as what I was carrying. We just happened to be near the mission so I dodged in. The building was empty they were holding a street rally near Trafalgar Square. One person had been left to hold the fort though."   
  
"Bernie?" Paddy asked not requiring an answer.   
  
"She knew instantly I was in trouble and shoved me in the cloakroom taking off her Mission T-shirt with their logo printed on it. She grabbed a Mission hoodie for herself and zipped it up. I could hear her schmoozing the Special as I caught my breath and put on the top and hid my things."   
  
Trixie stopped and fidgeted in her pocket, Paddy knew from bitter experience she was checking for her fags. Reggie had been quite clear that the alpacas were not partial to cigarette smoke. She replaced her hand around Christopher's neck. Paddy thought it was almost like she was confessing to the animal not to him. She went on,   
  
"The eager beaver insisted on searching the place, so I braizend it out rather than be found hiding. He had never caught my face because I was too quick for him, I had been wearing a cap covering my hair. So I came out of the cloakroom innocence itself. I am not sure how fooled he was, he implied that a body search might be in order, but one look from Bernie and he left."   
  
Paddy laughed knowingly, "And that's how Bernie saved your life?"   
  
"Yes, I had previous you see and I would have certainly gone down. I am convinced I would have died Inside."   
  
Paddy could imagine the scene vividly, he knew Trixie wasn't exaggerating and he was certain that was exactly what Bernie would do. She would always put someone else's welfare and safety above her own without question.   
  
"So I cleaned up my act, but I had nowhere to go apart from the obvious, so if you can't beat them join them. I dusted off my tambourine and learnt to make huge amounts of soup." Trixie winked.   
  
Paddy shook his head and laughed, "Trixie, do you even believe in God?"   
  
Trixie paused for a palpable second and replied "I believe in the love of God."   
  
They walked silently for a while without discomfort. Trixie then shattered the silence,   
  
"Bernie believes God has a definite purpose for her life, she has such a big heart and wants to help everyone she meets and make a real difference."   
  
"I know."   
  
"She will never be truly happy if she feels she isn't living the life she thinks she is meant too. Like this river it must keep to its course, even when there seems a more obvious route to everyone else." Trixie was looking directly across at Paddy now. He felt the hit of her striking blue eyes.   
  
"I would never stop Bernie from being or doing everything she wants." Paddy responded with force.   
  
Trixie's voice was more earnest than it had been all evening, "It is so easy to get hurt if you get swept up in such a strong current."   
  
"I would never hurt her."   
  
"Oh Sweetie, it's not Bernie I'm worried about getting hurt."


	19. Her Paddy Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your time.

**I know there's something sacred and free reserved and received by me only. (Secret Smile, Semisonic)** ****  
  
Bernie moved towards the Herewards tentatively, but was welcomed by Mrs Hereward with a reassuring smile,   
  
"Bernadette, how lovely to see you again, I've been hoping to bump into you.” Bernie nodded appreciating Bobby's warmth and let her continue, "It's so busy after Sunday Service, I never seem to get round to seeing everyone."   
  
Bernie managed a weak smile, wondering if Bobby really did think she had been unlucky not catching her on a Sunday. Or did she know for a fact that Bernie left practically on the final amen to get ready for her shift at the Crown.   
  
"I don't think I've seen you at the evening worship services," Tom's enquiry was friendly but direct. Bernie noticed a shift in his wife's position and read it immediately to mean that Bobbie knew exactly why Bernie didn't attend Sunday evenings. Tom didn't pick up the change in his wife's body language as astutely as Bernie did.   
  
"They're really rather fun, thanks to you. Lucille has really pulled the choir into shape and we are trying to form a small band to lead worship. Lucille says you have quite a nice voice."   
  
Bobby made a sort of stuffily noise as if she was about to speak but wasn't quite sure what to say. Help came from the most unlikely source, as a glass of something sparkling was thrust in front of Bernie.   
  
"I am driving," Bernie snapped at her rescuer. Paddy signed,   
  
"It's just a small one, it's mainly air. It won't put you over the limit, you can trust me I am a professional."   
  
Bobby giggled glad that something had broken the tension. "I am Bobby Herward and this is Tom my husband, we are part of the team at Saint Preservus." She smiled and held out her hand towards Paddy. He took her hand firmly and then Tom's.   
  
"Yes I know who you are, I just haven't had chance to welcome you to Poplar as of yet. I'm Paddy from the Crown," even though completely aware that in such a small place the incomers would be fully aware of who he was by now. The well shook hand didn't go back into his jeans pocket like it usually did when Paddy was stood talking, but found its way around Bernie's waist and rested lazily on her left hip. Bernie flinched slightly which only resulted in Paddy holding her more firmly.   
  
"So I guess you already know our Bernie."   
  
Our Bernie stiffened again and tried to gently wriggle out of Paddy's grip, but only succeeded in moving closer to him.   
  
"It's rather remiss of us but I am afraid we haven't frequented your establishment yet," Tom confessed apologetically, "We are not big drinkers." He added sharing a knowing smile with Bobby who was afraid Tom may have yet again put his foot in it.   
  
"I hear the food's very nice though," she offered searching for neutral territory. She was looking at Bernie who was still discreetly wiggling her bum, trying to shake off Paddy's hand without satisfaction. Paddy answered for her, "Yes, Vi's Sunday lunches are legendary in these parts."   
  
"Oh that's a shame," said Tom, "Sunday is our busiest day."   
  
Paddy nodded, "We know the feeling, don't we love," he said looking affectionately at Bernie, who glowered back at him.   
  
A final tiny thrust of her hip resulted in Paddy finding an ideal secure hold for his left thumb at the top of Bernie's right hip bone. The small talk continued as Tom and Paddy discussed the end of the cricket season and the start of the Football League. Bernie and Bobby talked about the alpaca walk and the village, each taking care not to mention either church or Crown.   
  
"They seem nice," said Paddy watching the Herewards move towards Patsy and Delia to make their apologies and leave.   
  
Bernie aware that she wasn't being watched closely, forcefully broke free from Paddy's hand. "What were you thinking, coming over like that," she hissed aware that they were still surrounded by friends. "Pawing me, butting in on my conversation,  _ our _ Bernie." Her tone was withering.   
  
"Is this still about the car?"   
  
"No it's about you thinking you own me," Bernie looked around scared someone may have overheard her, everyone was deep in conversation, some laughing a little on the loud side due to the champagne. Paddy wasn't looking around he was staring right at her.   
  
"Come with me," he said through gritted teeth and grabbed Bernie's hand.   
  
"Not now," she moaned.   
  
"Now!" demanded Paddy as he led her into a nearby barn. Bernie didn't put up much resistance suddenly aware Phyllis was watching them.   
  
The barn smelt of straw, dust and old poo. It felt cold out of the setting sun, Bernie shivered, Paddy had let go of her hand and was facing her squarely hands on his hips. Bernie suddenly felt very tired, what was left of the champagne in her glass she poured onto the barn floor and flopped onto a bale of straw.   
  
"I don't want to own you Bernie and I don't know why you think I do."   
  
Bernie felt the tears start to prick her eyes she didn't want to have this conversation at all, but she knew she wasn't being fair if she didn't.   
  
"I was trying to make friends with the Herewards and you just took over."   
  
Paddy looked completely confused, "I was just being friendly, they are my neighbours too," he replied, "Look if you want to be friends with the Herewards that's fine, we will invite them over the Crown one night for a meal."   
  
"I can make friends on my own, I have been doing it since playgroup,” Bernie barked.   
  
Paddy sighed and sat down next to Bernie, she shivered again. He removed his cardigan and put it round Bernie's shoulders. She went to shrug it off at first, but as soon as the warmth of the wool and the residual heat of Paddy's body hit her she accepted it gratefully.   
  
"Bernie, if you are finishing with me, could you just do it please. I really can do without all the sarcasm."   
  
Bernie shivered again, but this time from shock. "You think I want tae pack you in?"   
  
Paddy couldn't help but smile at the squeaky small Scots voice coming from Bernie.   
  
"Well I don't think you want to be with me right now."   
  
Bernie sat very still. Paddy was wrong, she hadn't intended to end anything. She wasn't sure why she had been in such a bad mood. She had felt awkward in front of the Herewards, she was envious of Trixie returning to London, and she was confused by Paddy being so certain that they were a couple. He didn't seem to doubt it the way she did.   
  
She was just going to tell him to back off a little bit, that was all, but, if they did break up, maybe she could go to London with Trixie. Phyllis would understand, she'd almost said as much. She could think more clearly down there without all the deafening quiet of the countryside. Evie would help out the Crown until they found a replacement, Ursula might comeback apparently the Fourteen Teacups was only open Thursday to Saturday now. Even if it was just for a week or two, it would be enough time to get her head straight. There were people she could pray with and she would have time for her Bible studies again. Bernie felt she hadn't heard God's voice clearly for such a long time, but she could hear it clear as a bell now, a church bell. Bernie was so lost in her own thoughts she hardly noticed Paddy stand up.   
  
"Where are you going," she said almost absentmindedly.   
  
"What do they say, if you can't say it nicely, don't say it at all." A bitter smile crossed his face, "come in as usual tomorrow morning, we will talk about your shifts. It would be a great help if you could work the weekend, but I won't make you, we'll manage we always do. But come in tomorrow, I can at least sort your money out."   
  
Bernie lifted the car keys from her pocket as she stood.   
  
"Tim and me will get a lift with Pete, don't worry about it." Paddy was at the open entrance to the barn.   
  
Bernie nodded. Her heart was beating a strong rhythm in her chest she stated to hear it ringing in her ears as clear as a bell, a last orders bell.   
  
"Paddy, no, no I.."   
  
Bernie stopped the barn was dark now, the setting sun behind Paddy made him look like a silhouette. She couldn't see if he was smiling, scowling or crying. She couldn't make out his faded jeans which he wore too often. Bernie wondered if they ever saw an ounce of Daz. In this light she couldn't see if his hair was in place or had flopped over his right eyebrow as it usually did after a few minutes of being put back into place.   
  
Just a dark figure with the sun shedding its last powerful citrine rays behind him. It could have been anyone turned towards her in the doorway, but it was Paddy, she would know him anyway now, even if she closed her eyes. She knew exactly how he looked, she knew not just how tall he was, but how much taller than her, where her head finished and his heart sat in his chest at exactly the same distance from the ground as her ear. She pondered for a moment, maybe that was why he thought with his heart and her with her head.   
  
"I don't want tae pack yer in, because I didnae ken we were in a relationship."   
  
"Sorry?"   
  
"I didn't know we were going out together," Bernie replied trying to sound English.   
  
Paddy laughed, "I knew what you meant... I just don't know how you didn't know."   
  
He had moved back towards her now, "You never said, you just seem to presume I am with you."   
  
Paddy scratched his head, two minutes ago he had no hope, he had lost her, but right now there was some hope. He knew he had to tread carefully.   
  
"I thought all the going out and the kissing might have given it away."   
  
"Yeah, but Val does that every week and she isn't in a relationship."   
  
"Yes that's because it's with different people every week," Paddy snorted and Bernie giggled.   
  
"I'm not sure I can be who you want me to be Paddy," she confessed more serious now.   
  
"I want you to be you, you're already doing a pretty good job of that."   
  
"You want a girlfriend or even a wife..."   
  
Paddy interrupted her "Whoa you're way ahead of me now."   
  
Bernie continued, "But you do. You want someone running the pub with you like Marianne did."   
  
"Mazz was rubbish behind the bar."   
  
"No, she wasn't the punters still talk about her. You want someone to be Mrs Turner or Paddy's lass and I don't know if I can do that."   
  
"Why not," Paddy's voice was as fragile as a teardrop.   
  
"Because I want other things, things the religious life can give me and and I am not sure you and Poplar can."   
  
"Such as," it was barely a whisper.   
  
"I want to make a difference, I want to help people, help solve their problems try and prevent their disasters."   
  
Paddy suddenly found some passion in his voice "We do help people me and you, we are a team."   
  
"Who do we help? Paddy, it's a pub not the Salvation Army." She went on animatedly,   
  
"We help people not face their problems by getting lost in a bottle or leave their kids with a stranger while they treat themselves to a night out. Help people make a monumental choice on the flimsy grounds of if someone orders them a double or a single, to decide whether they go home alone or not. Do you know how many men I have seen take off their wedding rings on a Saturday night at the bar when they see a pretty stranger walk in?"   
  
"And that's what you think the Crown is all about is it?" Paddy's voice was dull.   
  
"Isn't it? Honesty Paddy tell me anything I said was untrue."   
  
"I am sorry, I thought you were happy."   
  
Bernie now recovering from her unfiltered rant, was recounting her words in her head and was suddenly afraid, she normally would have taken her time, been more thoughtful in choosing her words, but she was tired and her head ached.   
  
"I am happy, working with you and Val, Vi, Evie the boys. You are like family to me and some of the regulars, the ones I've got to know. You're the only family I've known recently." She smiled reassuringly, hoping to erase her outburst with a grin.   
  
When Paddy spoke his voice was measured and he took the care Bernie usually did. 

"Tell me Bernie, if you hadn't felt excluded from Saint Presurvus. Say Julia had given you a role in her new organisation, would you have even looked at me or even passed the time of day? Were you just lonely Bernadette?"   
  
It was dark in the barn now, but Paddy was no longer a silhouette he was real and sat beside her. She could feel his breath on her forehead and the warmth of his body and the glint of sadness in his eyes, she could see his lips pressed tight together.   
  
She wanted her Paddy smile back, the one she thought was just for her. Had she said too much? She wasn't sure if she'd ever get that smile back. Bernie traced her right index finger along Paddy's lips, they felt dry and hard. She moved toward him and placed her lips on his, they tasted bitter, she blamed it on Fred's beer. She tried to open his mouth with her tongue, he didn't respond to her, he just stayed very still. She tried again, but this time he pulled away a little and rubbed his lips together for a fraction of a second, then he closed his mouth tight shut before she had a chance to capture a kiss.   
  
Bernie was scared he never refused her, he usually couldn't keep his hands off her. He was always touching her, caressing her, his arms around her. He took any excuse to kiss her, her lips, her cheeks, her neck. Even her hands which she thought a little old fashioned, but Evie had told her not to knock it. She'd never let it go any further than that, she had made that quite clear in the beginning much to Paddy's chagrin. It didn't matter what length the little black skirt was, the hand stayed below the hemline and it always had after the warning.   
  
They sat very still, close enough to feel the tingle from each other's skin, but far enough away to feel alone. Bernie suddenly felt very cold and pulled Paddy's thick knit around her. What if he didn't want to kiss her ever again or hold her in his arms? What if she had lost all that stability, all that tenderness? She had kicked him where it hurt most, the Crown was his jewel, and she had just tarnished it. Ten minutes ago she was chucking him, now she was the one being chucked.   
  
Paddy spoke first, "Bernie, don't if you don't mean it, no more games, it's up to you. If you want to go back to London then go, if you want to be more involved in the church, make an appointment with Rev. Julia." Bernie nodded demanding that the tears didn't flow as her chest started to ache. "If you want to waste your life away behind the bar at the Crown with the rest of us then do that." Paddy added almost as an afterthought.   
  
Bernie wasn't sure if he was joking, but gave a little laugh anyway.   
  
"But if you decide to stay, I don't want to hear any more talk of London or Saint Presurvus. If you want to go to church, by all means you go, but don't try to make me feel guilty because I don't go."   
  
"You can't stop me going to..."   
  
"I am not trying to stop you doing anything Bernie, ever. I promise. All I am saying is if you decide to go back to London, just go, do that. Have the courage of your convictions and go, but don't torture me with your procrastinating in the meantime."   
  
Bernie nodded, "I am sorry, I understand and would it be okay, if I do stay, if we took things a little slower from now on."   
  
"Jesus, Bernie if we go any slower we will meet ourselves coming back."   
  
Bernie went to admonish but caught a glint in Paddy's eye and suddenly it was back, her Paddy smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The working title for this was Alpaca you in. (Sorry)


	20. Flowers in the Window

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think we need some light relief! Don't we Delia?

**So now we're here and now is fine. So far away from there and there is time, time, time (Flowers in the Window, Travis)**

Later that night Bernie came to the conclusion, there was nothing remotely romantic about barns. It was a myth. Hay was hard and prickly, not soft and springy. Following the outlining of the new rules of their relationship, she also came to the conclusion that Paddy had no intention of following them.  
  
When they finally crept out of the barn, only Cynthia was left in the driveway outside the farmhouse. Paddy had a hold of Bernie's hand again as he led her out, but his grip felt warm and yielding this time, not cold and demanding as when he had led her in earlier that evening.  
  
That didn't stop Bernie resisting when Paddy walked towards the farmhouse door.  
  
"What are you doing?" She hissed.  
  
"Going to say goodbye, it's only manners," he explained.  
  
"No!" Bernie protested, "Do you know how long we have been in there? Everyone else has gone, let's just go."  
  
"That's very rude Bernadette," Paddy admonished with a cheeky grin.  
  
"Delia is my patient, this is not very professional," Bernie snarled, "What if they ask what we were doing in their barn?"  
  
"I don't think they will ask what we were doing," Paddy laughed removing a sprig of hay from Bernie's hair and presenting it to her with a wink. "They just need to look at your hair."  
  
Bending her head forward for Paddy to find any more giveaway strands, he laughed, "I can't tell your hair is the same colour."  
  
"My hair is not the colour of straw," Bernie protested, "Honestly you might not see, but Trixie will notice in a split second."  
  
Paddy took her head in his hands and ruffled up her hair, then ran his fingers carefully through the unruly mess he had just made. "There all gone," he said still holding her head gently over her ears and pulling her forward to kiss her lips.  
  
He then walked her backwards and finally into Cynthia's rear end. As he peppered her neck with kisses, Bernie had one eye on the farmhouse. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Checking for hay mites," he smirked.  
  
Patsy and Delia who were already stood watching from their dimly lit bedroom. Finishing the remains of the night's champagne. Delia had always been somewhat of a guzzler, brought up during the war, things had been hard for young Delia. Her thrifty mam had taught her to appreciate everything she was given and waste not want not. Delia was definitely appreciating the champagne.  
  
Patsy had had a different sort of war, she sipped her champagne, as she appreciated everything like it might be the last glass, the last meal, the last kiss. Time had put a distance between Patience Mount and the sense of loss and scarcity she had known in the prisoner of war camp. She had learnt from her beloved teacher Delia, there could also be times of having and holding, there could also be times of abundance, gluts of love, joy, happiness. As she looked lovingly at her tutor in all things good, she couldn't help but feel that time, once her friend, was again becoming her enemy.  
  
Delia flushed with the sparkling wine, thrilled with the rejuvenating effects of company and giddy with naughtiness from watching Bernie and Paddy's emergence from the barn. She looked twenty-one again and as beautiful as she did that day when as a student nurse, held Patsy's hand and stroked her hair, it was blonde then. Staying long after her shift had finished into the night, she had whispered lovingly,  
  
"There, there my lovely, time will make things better, you wait and see."  
  
And it did. Not all at once but slowly, hesitantly and when the bad times came back, Delia would always be there, "There, there my lovely, time will make things better, you wait and see."  
  
In her 80's Patsy discovered she was again waiting and seeing. Mother Time, for surely time was female, time meant life and renewal. Her old friend was turning again into her old advisory. Mother Time was gaining on her, because time also meant decay and death. Time was the most fickle of friends Patsy knew.  
  
A squeal from the couple outside broke into Patsy's thoughts. Delia was staring open mouthed at the scene in their courtyard. Bernie was still squealing and pulling at her clothes in horror. Paddy's cardigan had fell off her shoulders and was on the ground. She had pushed Paddy away, whose laughter could be heard through the old wooden sash window frame.  
  
"Do you think Nurse is alright?" Delia pressed her nose to the window frame suddenly concerned for her caregiver, "What do you think he has done to her?"  
  
Patsy sipped her champagne, "I have absolutely no idea and care even less to know." she replied in mock disgust. She smiled, Delia's face was serious, the clouds of champagne shadowing her reasoning, she grew protective of her carer.  
  
Patsy stroked Delia's ruddy cheek, "Remember what Lady K always says about the male organ."  
  
Delia's eyes widened and she raised her fist to bang on the window, Patsy grabbed it, "I think she is safe dearest one, I think hay fleas are more to blame on this occasion. Ticks not dicks."  
  
Delia was not pacified, "I only buy the best hay for my darlings, how dare you."  
  
"I wasn't casting aspersions on the quality of your hay Deel's, I know there aren't any mites, you know there aren't any mites, so does he, but sweet Bernie does not."  
  
Delia's eyes glowed, "Oh I see the old hay lice trick, I used that on you a few times, if I recall."  
  
"Yes, I would rather not be reminded thank you." Patsy replied scratching her forearm.  
  
"I wish they would leave, already"  
  
"I thought you were rather enjoying your new role as voyeur."  
  
"If they left than we could go down to the old barn."  
  
"No,no I said last time was the very last and I meant it."  
  
"But the hay will be all flattened by those two it won't be as scratchy."  
  
"Delia have some more champagne," Patsy spilled some more of the French wine into her sweethearts wavering glass. She then turned back toward the window.  
  
Patsy watched Bernie raise her right hand and offer Paddy her car keys, then snatch them away from him in the blink of an eye. She threw her tangled mess of sunburned hair back with a Machiavellian chortle.  
  
Paddy just shook his head smiling at her, he really did have a nice smile Patsy thought, if you liked that sort of thing. She had never noticed before, but she suppose she had never seen him smiling at Bernie before.  
  
As she watched them drive away a flash of white light from within the bedroom startled her, she turned and a swaying Delia in a cyan towelling dressing gown and contrasting green wellies coated in dried mud, sprayed light from a hefty torch all over the walls.

"The barn's free," she smiled with a grin as wide as the Severn Estuary.


	21. Sunday Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know you have been a long time at the bar! Thank you everyone who has been reading and left kudos and taken time to comment and leave feedback, that most definitely makes my Happy Hour!

**Cold as ice cream, but still as sweet. Dry your eyes Sunday Girl. (Sunday Girl, Blondie)**

Valerie Dyer pulled a half of Crown Cask Ale. It was still Sunday morning and the barmaid wasn’t really a real ale fan, but Paddy always insisted the hand pulls were drawn before opening, since they had been sat overnight and were known to be unpredictable. The sounds of Violet and Evie’s animated chatter came from the kitchen and an occasional awkward chuckle of “no way” or “really” belonging to Jack. Val smiled wondering what the two matriarchs were teasing young Jack about today.

The door opened and in walked Val’s colleague, she was expected but her attire startled Valerie,

“Morning Berns, wrong job, have you been to church dressed like that?”

Bernie looked down at her carer’s uniform as if she needed to check what Val was referring to.

“Winnie called in sick, she had a wee bump in her car, again.” Bernie raised her eyebrows and Val smirked in recognition.

“I hope she is alright, poor thing.”

“Oh well aye, it’s just a wee dint in her bumper, but you know what's she’s like, a proper fanny in a fit sometimes.”

Val try to suppress a giggle at Bernie, the carer’s lack of sympathy for her colleague. Val was thinking Bernie was becoming a mini Phyllis, a heart of gold when the occasion called for it, but not one to suffer fools gladly. 

“Although I am sure Paddy wouldn’t disapprove in the change in uniform, you are not getting me in a nurses frock though, unless it’s fancy dress,” Val laughed.

“I’ve been trying to contact Paddy, to tell him I might be a bit late and ask if it was OK to change here, but he hasn’t replied to my texts.”

Val observed Bernie fiddling with her phone, two lines forming between her eyebrows in consternation. The senior barmaid had enjoyed having an enviable view as Paddy and Bernie’s romance had sparked and kindled. She thought the world of her boss and was chuffed to bits he looked so happy again and it was great having someone near her own age around the place. The two young women had become close friends. Val more than anyone had the inside track on the Crown courtship. Working long weekends with both Paddy and Bernie in close cramped quarters. But even with all this insider's knowledge, she still really didn’t have a clue what was going on.

“Bernie, just go up Paddy and Tim are still upstairs. Not being funny, but you could just nip home and get changed. Paddy isn’t going to dock your wages for being a few minutes late is he? Especially since you were doing a good deed.”

“I don’t want him thinking I don’t take this job seriously compared to my visits.” Bernie was still looking at her phone,”I don’t want him thinking I am taking advantage.”

Val’s thought’s were no less confused by Bernie’s reply. “I would have thought sleeping with the boss was advantage enough,” she laughed.

Bernie raised her eyes from her phone and a rather pink face turned to Valerie’s and in a very weary sounding tone Bernie shook her head.

“Really! Val I am not going to have this conversation again,” she muttered shoving her phone into her pocket.

Tim sat at the kitchen table trying to complete his college assignment that was due in tomorrow. The repeated sound of a bottle cap being removed from it’s bottle, was not making his task any easier.

“Dad you have a message.” He made his way across to the edge of his dad’s scruffy yet incredibly comfy armchair and picked up the persistent offending article.

“It’s Bernie, she wants to ask you a favour.” 

A muffled reply came from behind the bathroom door. Tim continued to read from Paddy’s mobile,

“She has had to work this morning, she is coming straight here, she just wants to know if it’s OK to get changed.”

His dad appeared and took his phone from his son,

“This might have been private, how would you feel if I read, your messages,” Paddy huffed.

Tim just rolled his eyes and sighed as he sat back down in front of his laptop. He didn’t turn his attention though to his college work. He looked at his father catching up on Bernie’s unanswered messages.

“You know Dad, I do like Bernie,” he offered, Paddy didn’t look up. “It’s just it’s OK, you know,” Tim added apprehensively.

“What is?” Paddy asked absentmindedly.

“You know if Bernie wanted to hang out around here a bit more.”

Paddy looked at his son and raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know you seem a bit more settled lately, that’s all,” Tim continued, ”you know since she stopped mentioning the L word.”

“What?” Paddy was confused.

“LONDON!” Tim explained dramatically. 

“Very funny,” chuckled Paddy, “you’ve noticed that too.”

“Yep and her and Val were making plans for bonfire night."

“Really?”

“You're welcome,” added Tim

“Sorry?”

“Well it was me who got her involved with the choir and I definitely think that has helped her feel more at home here again. She loves helping Lucy."

“That’s good to know son, the choir is why she is so happy, thanks.”

“So what I am saying Dad is that we are all adults.” 

“Are we?”

“Yes and adults have needs.”

“They do?”

“So all I am saying is, if Bernie stays over now and again, it’s fine by me.” 

Paddy really didn’t know how he was managing to keep a straight face. 

Tim continued, “So also, if I wanted to ask someone back, that would also be OK.”

Paddy grinned, “I wondered where this was going.”

Tim was still in deadly serious mode, Paddy leaned towards his son and said in a low voice, “Tim you have as much chance of getting Lucille up those stairs as Fred winning the Grand National on an alpaca."

Paddy was still laughing when Bernie appeared at the top of the stairs. She was guided into the master bedroom and reassured there was no rush.

The room was larger than Bernie had expected. It felt light and airy even though the thin curtains had been drawn together giving the room a dreamlike appearance. Bernie soon realized that Paddy mustn’t have redecorated since Marianne died. She looked for possessions belonging to the former landlady. There were no sign of cosmetics or jewelry on the table. It was just the presence of a dressing table that suggested this room had once had a female influence.

The surface of the wooden piece of furniture held a few bottles of aftershave, deodorant, a brush and a comb, some loose change, mixed with till receipts. There was also a double photo frame. On one side was an image of a flushed, smiling, but exhausted looking Marianne holding a tiny baby and an image of two tiny footprints was set in the other frame. Bernie looked at the images but didn’t touch it. She did pick up the aftershaves and sniff their contents, realizing none of them smelt like Paddy. She caught a glimpse of herself in the dressing table mirror and hurried away to get changed.

She had put her bag with her change of clothes on the end of Paddy’s bed, she had thought this must be the side he sleeps on. The adjacent bedside cabinet was cluttered with mugs and pens, letters and used envelopes. These jostled for space with a tatty notebook and a strip of Rennies, a box of throat pastels and empty vape cartridge boxes. Turning to the corresponding bedside locker she noticed it was spartan in comparison. It was just home to a single photo frame. Bernie’s first thought was, it was most likely a wedding photograph. As she moved closer she was surprised to see her own image looking back at her.

Bernie pulled back the pretty curtains Paddy had thoughtfully closed for her when he had shown her into his bedroom. Bernie pulled at the hem of her black skirt in the long cheval mirror and straightened the collar of her white blouse. She acknowledged another sign of a female influence in the presence of the full length mirror. She turned and had a closer inspection of this unfamiliar environment, the light bounced back from the dressing table mirror and for the first time, Bernie noticed a dreamcatcher. Bernie wondered how and more interestingly why this small object, that had once obviously been Marianne’s had survived.

The now appropriately dressed barmaid needed a coat hanger for her blue uniform, she went to open the wardrobe door, but hesitated. She was unsure what she would find. There were barely any traces of the late Mrs Turner on display, but the wardrobes and cupboards could be hiding secrets. She opened the bedroom door instead and called for Paddy. He looked at her slightly amused as he reached into his wardrobe and handed her a spare hanger.

“We keep them in here,” he grinned.

Bernie noticed the closet was full of jeans, shirts, a few suits and jumpers. Most of which she had seen on Paddy, there weren't any dresses, skirts or frills. She also noticed he had said _we._

Paddy hung the uniform on the front of the wardrobe, while Bernie made her way to the other side of the bed. She picked up the photo frame.

“Where did you get this terrible photo of me? It’s awful.”

“No it’s not! You look lovely in it,” Paddy replied a little uneasy. Bernie made a face,

“Paddy I am not even smiling or looking at the camera. I look miles away, the sun must have been in my eyes, I look like I am frowning. I didn’t even know you had taken it.” Bernie complained.

“I didn't. Trixie did.”

“Trixie!” Bernie responded a little louder than necessary, “Well that would figure.”

“It’s from the Alpaca walk,” Paddy grinned.

“I know when it was taken, I just can’t remember it being taken.”

“She was snapping away all the time. That was when we were being introduced to our animals. She showed it to me and I asked her to forward it and Tim printed it off for me.” Paddy felt the need for a full explanation.

“But why that photo?” Bernie was still confused, ”it wasn't really a day to remember was it?” Bernie asked sheepishly remembering her own grumpiness and the horrible moment she thought she had lost Paddy by her own doing. 

She had flopped onto the edge of the bed and was scrutinizing her image intensely. Paddy sat down next to her.

“It wasn’t all bad,” he grinned. “I had a very interesting walk along the river with your friend and Christopher.”

“Good for you. I got scolded by Phyllis in two languages,” Bernie howled.

Paddy laughed and looked at the photograph in Bernie’s hands. He wanted to tell her that Trixie had captured her perfectly, probably accidently or maybe not. The visitor had seemed to know Bernie better than anyone. She had caught a light in her eyes, they had all been laughing at Lucille having been given temporary guardianship of Tim, and there were shades of that joy in her face. But there was something else, a thoughtfulness, a look of not being fully present, that Bernie often had. As if she was searching for something, someone. A face full of questions that had never been answered.

“I will take it away and get you a nicer one,” Bernie informed him.

“No you won’t,” Paddy responded and took the frame out of her hands.

Bernie turned to protest, they were sat close together and something in Paddy’s eyes made her stop. He lent over her and placed the frame back where it belonged. Moving back he gently put his hand at the small of her back. Bernie suddenly forgot all about the photograph and that it was Sunday and they had a busy day ahead of them.

“She stays there, so I can say goodnight to her every night and good morning every morning.”

Bernie gasped, “What do you say?

Paddy considered for a moment, “Everything you can't say in a text.”

Bernie suddenly had an awareness of where she was, she had entered this room searching for memories of Marianne and had found some. But this wasn’t Marianne’s room it was Paddy’s. No-one was ever alone in the Crown, there always seemed to be at least one other person with you. In the flat beyond the bedroom door, Bernie was already aware Tim’s presence could very much felt. Bernie realized this was the one room where Paddy spent any amount of time alone, this room was solely his. No wonder he had cleared away so many traces of Marianne. Suddenly the thought of him talking to that terrible picture of her, when he was alone in here, telling her things he felt he couldn’t when she would hear them, broke her heart. When did he stop talking to Marianne and started talking to her, she couldn’t help but wonder.

Bernie without thinking took hold of Paddy’s face and brought it toward her own and kissed him as passionately as she could remember ever kissing anyone. When she withdrew Paddy was looking at her with a rather dazed expression.

With the same amount of passion she had found for the kiss Bernie added, “You don’t need some dodgy photo for that, when you can have the real thing.”

The energy coursing through her body and mind propelled Bernie upwards and onwards as she grabbed her bag and made for the door.

Paddy was still sat on his bed, still trying to figure out what had just happened. All the energy had seemed to have been sucked out of his body with that unexpected kiss. His mind was racing. What did it mean? What did she mean? He thought it was pretty obvious what she had meant, or was it? This was Bernie and as far as Paddy was concerned nothing had ever been obvious up to now. He looked again at the photograph, that’s what he liked about it, there was nothing obvious about her. Did she look happy, sad, thoughtful? It was difficult to tell. The image was just Bernie, unguarded.

As Bernie led the way downstairs Tim shouted his dad back from his temporary work station.

You're halfway there,” he winked, “You actually managed to get her into your bedroom.”

Paddy was startled, he wondered if Tim had overheard what Bernie had said, no he couldn’t have done he reassured himself. He was just being cheeky. Paddy chose to ignore him, until he heard, “Don’t forget there is a Johnny machine in the men’s bogs, Dad.”

Paddy’s stare told Tim he had gone too far.

At the bottom of the stairs Val passed Bernie a Boots the Chemist carrier bag, ”I was in Appleby Thornton last week, so I got some more for your collection.”

Bernie looked in the plastic bag and sighed. “Val that is brilliant of you, think I may be needing some of these myself though.”

Val stopped stacking glasses and frowned at her friend, “Bernie have you still not seen Dr Horringer yet?”

“It’s not like I am sick Val.”

“No, but you are worried, look there are lots of options these days. The pill is just one of them. Just go and have a chat, it would put your mind at rest, then you could at least relax, feel more confident, less vulnerable and also..”

“Yes Val, I know the _and also_ , thanks very much,” she smiled and added more sweetly, ”though I do appreciate your concern."

Paddy was at the bottom of the stairs now and the conversation ended abruptly, but he had heard enough. He looked at Bernie and down at the carrier in her hand, she coloured slightly and made her way to the cloakroom, wondering how much Paddy had heard.

It was a busy Sunday, the Moggies had a home game and a bright autumn day had brought Sunday drivers and walkers to the country pub. Evie had stopped back to help Vi in the kitchen and Jack was waiting and clearing tables like he was training for the Olympics. Val as always took everything in her stride doing six things at once. Bernie knew she was quicker than she had been a few months ago, but she still envied Val’s ease behind the bar. She never seemed flustered or irritated and worked at speed, but always seemed friendly and relaxed with all the time in the world.

One of the six things, that Val was doing all at the same time, was watching her colleagues. Something was different. Previously she had managed to glean from Bernie that something had gone on at the Alpaca walk a few weeks back. She hadn’t discovered anything specific, Bernie wasn’t the type to pour her heart out at the slightest opportunity. What Val had noticed was that Bernie didn’t talk about London anymore and was quite happy to discuss future plans for Halloween, November 5th and even Christmas.

Val had also noticed that Paddy was more relaxed around Bernie, his eyes had stopped following her constantly around the room. He didn't seem to need to touch her every two minutes, as if to check she was still real. Val wondered if he was purposefully giving her more room to breathe and if he was, it was actually a quite brilliant plan. As Bernie did seem to be breathing more easily.

That was until today, Val didn’t know if it was maybe because Bernie had been on the go since early that morning, but she seemed almost hyper and much more animated than normal. She was even flirting with the football crowd, flashing her wide smile and giggling. She wasn’t the only one to notice, Paddy definitely had and in response had reverted back to _old_ Paddy. His eyes and hands seemed glued to Bernie. Val also noticed Bernie didn’t seem to mind, she was constantly whispering in Paddy’s ear and bumping into him on purpose.

Val was all for a bit of romance, she was quite fond of a bit of flirting herself, but she wasn’t sure a busy Sunday in the Crown was the best place. She was quite happy with the new Bernie who had seemed to have found another gear. This Paddy she was less than happy with, her boss never made mistakes, but he had now served someone the wrong drinks twice and also under charged someone else. Val was beginning to wonder if he would be better in the kitchen and Evie behind the bar.

Paddy couldn’t believe he had messed two drinks orders up and thank god he had under charged not short-changed, as that was unforgivable, as far as he was concerned. Val had been given him daggers all day and he couldn’t blame her. He would have been on her back too, if she had been as hopeless as he had been so far today. He couldn’t get Bernie’s words out of his mind, was he reading too much into her remark? But what about the kiss, it was so unlike her to be the one initiating any intimacy between them. Surely the snippets of conversation he had heard between her and Val, could only lead him to believe, she was serious about him, she really did see him as part of her future.

He kept thinking back to that morning, Bernie could have easily gone home and changed uniforms and still been in time for her shift. Her care uniform, the one she would need for tomorrow was now hanging his bedroom. She would have no need to go home tonight, she could stay over-as Tim put it, have her porridge and then go straight to work. Had Bernie already worked this out, had everyone including Tim, everyone that is but him.

“Paddy, the lady asked for diet coke with that,” Val was glaring at him, he really had to get it together or Val might stage a coup and steal his pub.

Paddy let out a huge sigh as he locked the inn doors. Vi had been long gone rosy cheeked and complaining that, a woman at her time of life shouldn't have to work in such conditions. The light in her eyes, combined with a kiss on the cheek and the rather unexpected tweak of his bottom reassured him he would not be facing a works tribunal anytime soon. He had let Val leave with the last punter, he felt she had earned it. Paddy, Bernie and Jack had cleaned up with the help of Evie, who just kept reassuring him, it was less for her to do the following morning.

There was just him and Bernie remaining. He hoped Tim had finished his assignment and was sound asleep, or at least chilling with a game. Bernie was sat in their regular pew, he had made two gin and tonics, a double for Bernie and a single for him. He needed his wits about him, he had already cocked up enough today. Paddy looked over at Bernie who was intricately examining a straw, she was flicking it with her index finger. Paddy suddenly went cold, when was the last time? Marianne had been ill and on various treatment pathway for such a long time, he wasn’t sure if he had to give specific date. Then there was that awkward tryst at the drinks conference, but that surely couldn’t been his finest hour.

People said, you never forget, it was like riding a bike, but Bernie wasn’t a bike, far from it. He reasoned to himself, Bernie was hardly an expert, he might just get away with being a bit rusty, until he was back in the swing of things. Bernie turned and looked at him straw held aloft.

“These paper straws are shite,” she explained and flicked it at him as he sat down next to her.

“Yes that may well be true, but they are better for the environment. Reggie explained it all to me at some length last week. I can get him to repeat it to you, if you want.”

He lifted the second straw out of her drink and flicked it back at her, the fact that it had been settled in her glass longer than the one she had been examining, meant it was loaded with far more ammunition than hers.

Bernie wiped the liquid from her face. She dunked her weapon back into her drink and then attempted to blow gin into his face, but she sucked instead of blew and ended up with a big snotty mess at her end of the straw. Furious she dunked the blowpipe back in her glass. Paddy manage to stop laughing at her long enough to place his straw in her ear and blow 

Bernie shivered and looked at Paddy, she held up her straw and complained,

“That is not fair, look mine is all limp now, what good is that to anyone?”

Paddy couldn’t hide his amusement, he just hoped straws didn’t hold the gift of prophecy like tea leaves. While Bernie was ripping her straw to shreds and complaining, he gently placed his straw just above the top button of Bernie’s blouse and blew. Bernie dropped her wreckage from the straw wars, blushed and then giggled.

Bernie had been out with a few lads in her time. They were usually church youth leaders or mission workers. They had all been good looking and athletic in a well presented way, full of ambition and vision. She knew she had been the envy of her friends always being seen with the right boy. They had all been nice and the kind of person she could see herself opening a retreat in the Highlands with. She knew it worked both ways too, she was the girl their mothers wanted them to bring home. Bernie didn’t have a vane bone in her body, but she wasn’t thick, she knew most of these boyfriends felt that Bernie Mannion was just the right type of girl to be linked with. It was safe, it was clean, it was healthy.

She had done her share of snogging at the back of the school bus, behind the bike sheds and in the mission cloakroom. It had all been a bit of an adventure and in her mind daring and a wee but naughty, but she had never before felt as if her heart had stopped. That if she lost contact with another’s body she would shrivel up and die. Until Paddy had kissed her and held her in his arms. She had usually been thinking about, what biscuits to buy to go with after service tea or what hymns to pick for Harvest Festival. Until Paddy had kissed her and she had forgotten her name.

Maybe it was because he was older, he had served his apprenticeship, he was just more practiced. It had previously been lots of suction and tongues that just got in the way. Sweaty awkward hands and pointy knees. It had all been one paced with no crescendo. Somehow Paddy was able to move things on to boiling point and then take things down so slow she wanted to stab him with her cocktail umbrella. She wondered how he did that without crossing Bernie’s strict moral code, it was outrageous.

Bernie was pressed against Paddy as he was making an intense survey of her neck with his tongue. She found she just wanted to press herself so hard against him that there would be no division. If she could just feel the heat of his body, if she just slipped her hand inside his shirt, it would be no big deal, he might not even notice.

Paddy did notice and broke away from her neck in response. He gently cupped her cheek and kissed her behind the ear, as a shiver spread through her body. How could she feel like she was burning up and still have goosebumps at the same time. Paddy whispered into that same ear,

“Do you want to go upstairs?”

Bernie would have said yes, even if he had asked her to go up to the moon at that moment. Paddy got to his feet and gallantly took Bernie by the hand. She suddenly felt a pang of apprehension. In the last few minutes of headiness she had completely forgotten where she was. A change of environment would be good she thought, maybe a nice cup of tea and a hobnob biscuit would settle all this uneasiness in her tummy.

She wondered if Paddy felt the same, as he had halted and the glazed look he had been wearing had changed to something more down to earth.

“Would you excuse me a minute, please Bernie, I just need to visit the Gents.”

Bernie didn’t question him, but did wonder why he couldn’t wait until they went up to the flat. He seemed as jittery as her, which she found strangely reassuring. She sat back down.

In the Gents, Paddy searched his pockets for a coin, he took out a handful of change, not one blasted pound coin among the shrapnel in his hand. Paddy forced the small change back into his trouser pocket. He thumped the condom machine with his fist. It remained unimpressed and ungiving.

In the bar Bernie heard the bang and started to feel uneasy. Paddy re-entered the bar finding a slightly pensive looking barmaid. He passed an anguished glance over to the balanced and locked cash till.

“Bernie, this is really awkward,” he began slowly and deliberately, ”but do you perhaps have a pound coin on you?”

Bernie who had felt she was on fire several minutes ago found she was starting to cool down rather rapidly.

Sorry, for what, why?

“This is really embarrassing but you took me by surprise tonight and I am not as prepared as I should be,” Paddy knew he was waffling. Bernie’s face still maintained its perplexed look. “For the machine,” winced the publican, ”unless you have...hmm no, probably not.”

“The machine,” Bernie repeated incredulously, ”have you got a headache? I’ve got some paracetamol in my bag.”

"No, no, far from it,” he laughed nervously, “I mean, the other machine,” she really was sweet Paddy thought, that thought didn’t stay around long.

Bernie felt the last bit of heat leave her body, she now felt cold, terribly cold. She picked up her handbag and left the Crown quicker than her first tears could dampen her cheek.

Paddy ran after her but all he heard was the slam of Cynthia’s driver’s door and an over rev’d engine and all he saw was Cynthia disappearing from the car park with his heart inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday Roguesnitch!


	22. All the White Horses

**He** **says** **when** **you** **gonna** **make** **up** **your** **mind**. **When** **you** **gonna** **love** **you** **as** **much** **as** **I** **do**. ( **Winter** , **Tori** **Amos** )

Every phone call he made was left unanswered. Every text he sent was not responded to. Paddy asked Val to cover Bernie’s next shift, he was convinced she had pulled her last pint.

Tuesday afternoon was slow and he was grateful for that, a couple of regulars had just departed. He looked at the oversized clock in front of the bar, it was always set a few minutes fast to help with last orders, but Val was still late.

The door opened,

“Bernadette,” was all he could manage in disbelief.

“Mr Turner,” was all she could manage in reply.

“I was expecting Val.”

“I know, Valerie texted me to find out why I wasn’t available for my shift. I told her that I was. I am sorry I am late, I tried to text, but I couldn’t find a suitable reply.”

“I think you just being here is the most appropriate response I could have asked for. I really appreciate your support tonight.”

“I am here only as a favour to Valerie.”

“Of course.”

Providence made sure that it was one of the less turgid Tuesday nights, an assortment of regulars and ramblers kept the bar busy. Landlord and barmaid hardly needed to exchange another word all evening. Once the bar had been scrubbed to within an inch of its life, the takings balanced and the cash till locked, Paddy finally asked if Bernie was ready for home.

“I think we need to talk Paddy.” Bernie sat down in the same place she had on Sunday night. Paddy nodded in agreement, he didn’t join her, there was already too much distance between them. He perched on a bar stool.

“Let me start,” said Paddy eagerly, ”I was out of order, I deserve to be banged to rights, I am so sorry. It was unforgivable.”

“I don’t want to talk about that Paddy,” she whispered.

It was as if Paddy hadn’t heard her, determined to confess his sin, “I must be getting old.” He laughed hollowly, “I misread you, your body, your reaction...” he stopped, he knew he was only making things worse. This is why people my age shouldn’t date, we should all be happily married, he thought.

“I don’t want to talk about that either,” she replied. Bernadette Mannion was not on speaking terms with her body. It had betrayed her and however hard she tried to get it back in-line it was still even now, in the present moment, being rebellious. She was feeling flushed and fatigued.

“What do you want to talk about?” Paddy nervously enquired.

“I am sorry Paddy. I have been a bit confused since Dad died and I’ve somehow lost direction. I used to be certain what my life would be. Since being back in Poplar I am not sure of anything. I have just been in a sort of haze, going through the motions. Saying yes, to whatever came along. Not really taking responsibility for my thoughts and actions.”

“I think you are being a little hard on yourself, you have had a difficult time. I think you have handled things impeccably. In the last year your life has changed beyond recognition. I thought you were happy at Crane’s Carers and here at the pub.” Paddy was starting to sound weary.

Bernie looked nervous, ”It’s not what I think God has planned for me. When I was at the mission and working for the church, I felt my life had a clear purpose. I’ve always had this idea, a vision really, of opening a retreat. A sort of refuge somewhere, maybe back in Scotland. When I was in L..” Bernie stuttered, but continued, “London, I felt like I was working towards that end. I don’t feel that anymore, not here. I can’t picture the future at all.”

Paddy’s mouth was dry and his old craving for a cigarette returned, “You could start a retreat in Poplar,” he suggested. “Plenty of Grade II listed buildings around here, needing a new lease of life.” He was nervously fidgeting with a beer mat, “I could back you, I’ve got the money.”

Bernie chose her words carefully, explaining she couldn’t take his money. She didn’t need a financial partner, but a spiritual one.

“I need to get back on track Paddy. I’ve lost touch with who I am. I have been lying to you, to God and mostly to myself and I am tired of it. I am deeply sorry if I led you on and I don’t want you to feel bad about the other night. I am not leaving because of you, but because of Him.”

Paddy listened. Bernie got up and approached him. She wondered what was he to her? A former boss, maybe a good friend, or just a fleeting romance. She outstretched her hand toward him. He took it and instead of the awkward shake she had been expecting, he lifted it to his lips and placed the gentlest of kisses on her palm.

The action surprised Bernie and she took her hand away sharper than intended, her body again not reacting as she expected.

“I am in the wrong place, living the wrong life and I can see that now. I am very sorry.”

Bernie made for the door still confused by the nature of the unexpected kiss. Paddy called to her through the thickening air.

“Tell me Bernie, what do you expect to find in London?”

“Sorry?” she stopped and replied rather startled.

“A choir and a brass band with a massive screen saying _Welcome_ _Home_ _Prodigal_ _Mannion_ _Hallelujah_! I suppose, followed by an open top bus parade though the East End?” His voice was liberally laced with sarcasm. She could feel the animosity starting to be unleashed towards her.

Bernie spun round on her heels to face him. Amazed that she hadn’t already ran, Paddy knew he shouldn’t continue, but the bitter words that had built up in his larynx, were determined to be free.

“Do me a favour Bernie, if you are leaving I can accept that, but please cut all this religious crap. You are leaving because _you_ want too. You are not committing to this relationship because _you_ don’t want too. For once in your life have the courage of your own convictions and some belief in yourself.”

His words had been unforgivable. He had struck her where she was most vulnerable because she had done the same to him. Her parting words were already killing him, he felt like he didn’t deserve to live.

“ _You_ just don’t understand, _you_ will never understand and that’s why we can’t be together.” As she had lunged towards the door only turning once more to spit out,  
“And I dinnae like porridge.”

Bernie drove past the cottage she shared with Phyllis, she had no idea where she was going, she just knew she needed to be alone. Fortunately Cynthia knew. Bernie instinctively pulled up in front of St Preservus Church. It was nearly midnight and the days of churches leaving their doors open at all times, for those in need of refuge, had long past. Except for this particular seeker of solace, who had once called this home and hoped the spare key, was still hidden in its old hidey hole.

Bernie let out a small sigh of relief when she discovered it in its old hiding place. She unlocked the side entrance and tiptoed into the dark chapel. The only light came from the beautiful stained glass windows shedding multi-coloured moonlight onto the altar, pews and pulpit.

Bernie hadn’t need of anymore in the way of illumination, as this building and it’s rooms were all too familiar to her. She sat and shivered on the hard oak pew at the front nearest the pulpit, where she had always sat during her father's services. Bernie held onto the wooden bench very firmly, she felt if she let go she might just disappear. Finally alone and in a place of safety, she ceased trying to hold back the tears and sobbed bitterly.

She was so lost in her own grief that it wasn't until she felt the warmth of another body beside her, that she realized she wasn't actually alone. Bernie looked up and saw Reverend Julia Lewis by her side, staring straight ahead.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't be here,” Bernie apologized still heaving from her crying.

“On the contrary,” remarked Julia.” I think this is exactly where you should be.” She turned to Bernie and smiled, “In fact, I hoped I might see you here more often.”

“You are always so busy and I have been so distracted,” Bernie offered as way of an excuse.

“Yes of course. Your work for Matron Crane and at the Crown public house.”

“I won’t be working at the Crown anymore, I think I may have gotten the sack,” Bernie was surprised at the edge of bitterness in her voice.

If Julia had noticed she didn't reveal it, “That’s a shame.”

Bernie was shocked, ”Is it?”

“I never doubted, you were enjoying your new life.”

“I am not enjoying it now,” muttered Bernie.

They sat quietly for a few moments more. Julia spoke first,

“Would you like me to pray with you, my dear?”

“Would you, Reverend Lewis? I am so exhausted. I can’t seem to hear God’s voice anymore. I need to find strength from somewhere. I was so certain not so long ago what my life would be, but now I don’t feel sure of anything. I‘ve turned my back on everything I knew. It is like I’ve become somebody else.”

The older woman paused, Bernie had closed her eyes ready to be soothed by the vicar’s words of petition. When Julia did find her voice she spoke instead directly to Bernie.

“Lewis is my maiden name,” she revealed.

Bernie opened her eyes with a start, confused she looked down at the clergy’s hands clasped in her lap. As Bernie had thought, she wasn’t wearing a ring.

Julia continued, “My husband and I met when we were theology students. We had great schemes of starting a charitable trust and working overseas. Then I felt called to the ministry and completed my training and started serving in a parish in Lancashire. My husband was teaching by then, I am not sure what really happened, it now seems like it happened to someone else.”

Bernie felt like she was also listening to someone else. She couldn’t believe that Julia had chosen her, the screwed up vicar's daughter, to reveal something so personal. Julia continued her voice was steady and without emotion.

“I suppose you could call it resentment, but it wasn’t as simple as that. We had always been a team you see, a partnership. Charles said he no longer felt my equal, he didn’t understand his role in my new life,” Julia smiled painfully and glanced at a bewildered Bernie.

“He said he felt like Denis Thatcher,” Julia let out a strained chuckle.

“Oh dear, that’s not good,” Bernie couldn’t help but giggle easing the tension between the two.

“He works abroad now as we planned, but with someone else and I was relocated east after the divorce to Poplar.”

“Oh, I see,” Bernie nodded.

“The reason I am telling you this, Bernadette, is because I know you’re not a child, but you are still fairly young, to me anyway. God doesn’t bless you with a fully programmed Sat-Nav when you attempt to follow him. There is no road map, the path we are on is uncharted territory and it’s up to us to navigate the conditions and terrain as best we can. As we remain as open as we can to his guidance.”

“I think he is guiding me back to London, things were so much simpler there. I don’t know who that woman is anymore. God spoke to me so much more often at the mission.”

“Bernadette! God never stops talking to you, my dear girl. You’ve just, as you put it, been distracted. Is that what you really want, a simpler life?”

“l am not like you,” Bernie blurted out, “I tried to run this church on my own when Dad died and I failed, the only good thing I did was find Lucille.”

“That’s not what I've heard or what I saw when I came here.”

“Well it's a good job you did come and took over God’s work before I ruined everything.”

“Bernadette, I didn’t take over God’s work. His work was already being done and still is.” Bernie was about to protest but Julia cut her off. “By people such as Matron Crane and her team and...” It was Bernie’s turn to interrupt,

“Phyllis? Reverend Lewis, Phyllis was and continues to be a very good friend, but she has made it quite clear to me she isn't interested in religion.”

“Phyllis organises the care of the lonely and vulnerable, those on the edge of society. How is that not God’s work?” Julia sighed gently and continued,

“Mr Turner and everyone at the Crown offer hospitality and friendship to parishioners who would not seek it within these walls. Is that not also God’s work?”

“ _The 2 loves_ offer the healing experience of nature and the animal kingdom with dear Reggie. As well as all the beautiful creations Patience blesses us with. Surely you can see God’s work in that, my dear friend?”

Bernie protested, “But none of these people believe, vicar. They don’t do it for God, I am not saying they are not well meaning, but....”

“God’s love is unconditional Bernadette, when we believed the world was flat it didn’t stop it from being round. I believe God is in everything and everyone. Others think I am a fool, will we ever know who is right, I care not, to me it would make no difference.” Julie was now looking straight into Bernie’s tear and snot stained face, she had taken off her glasses and she was gripping them tightly in her lap.

“God doesn’t love me more than say, Phyllis or Paddy, because I worship him, that is my choice. God does not choose who to love and who not too and neither should we. And when we offer him love in whichever way is appropriate for ourselves he accepts it without question.”

Julia was silent for a moment. Bernie felt herself trembling, the older woman turned and took hold of both of Bernie’s hands, “Let us pray?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weshallc’s notes: Tori Amos told Rolling Stone magazine the the white horses in Winter were dreams, opportunities, roads you could have gone down...


	23. The Dog Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heading towards last orders on this mammoth pub crawl. Thank you to all those who have taken this trip.

**Happiness, hit her like a train on a track. Coming towards her, stuck still no turning back. (Dog Days Are Over, Florence and the Machine.)**

Lucille Anderson had an early Sunday appointment with Reverend Julia Lewis to discuss church music and the arrival of some new hymn books on Lucille’s recommendation. She had also arranged to pop in on Matron Crane to collect some old nursing journals that Phyllis thought the young student might find interesting. She parked her car at Saint Preservus and walked back to Phyllis’s cottage. It was a warm day for October, but slightly hazy.

Lucille stretched her arm to knock on Phyllis’ door, but ended up punching the air. Fortunately she did not punch a startled Bernie Mannion, who had opened the door to an equally surprised Lucille. Bernie opened her mouth, but it was the Matron’s voice that the visitor heard first. “Come through lass, I won’t be a minute, come through with you.” Phyllis Crane ushered the young girl through the entrance hall and into the cottage parlour. Bernie smiled a “hello” at Lucille and gave her access. The guest in return felt rather rude for not exchanging pleasantries with Bernie, but felt rushed by Phyllis. The large tatty suitcase Lucille nearly keeled over in the hall, seemed to explain a lot.

Once in the parlour Lucille stayed close to the door, which she had deliberately chosen not to shut completely behind her. She heard the older woman say, “Now are you sure you have got everything?”

“Quite sure, Phyll,” Bernie adamantly replied.

“You will text me as soon you arrive, won’t you?” Bernie trying not to give away the slightest bit of irritation said she would.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you to the station?”

“You have a visitor Phyll, I have plenty of time if I leave for the bus now,” replied Bernie firmly.

“Alright lass. have it your own way,” surrendered Phyllis, “but about what we talked about yesterday, you may have time to think on the train. I understand you have to find your own way in life, but there is always a bed for you here, if your plans don’t work out. You hear me?”

Lucille reeled back from the door she couldn't believe what she was hearing, her mind was racing. _How_ _could_ _Bernie_ _be_ _leaving?_ _She_ _had_ _seemed_ _so_ _happy_ _since_ _she_ _started_ _working_ _at the_ _Crown_ _and_ _courting_ _Paddy_. _Why_ _would_ _she_ _leave_ _now?_

As the young nurse walked backwards she hit a small table on which Phyllis’ laptop was standing, jogging it into action. A page in a foreign language popped up, it looked like Spanish. Lucille looked at the open tabs, one said _Journey_ _Planner_. The young woman clicked on it, hands shaking in fear she would be discovered and have to explain her inquisitiveness. A train timetable appeared, _GNER_ _Edinburgh_ _to_ _London_. Lucille gasped and quickly returned the screen to the Spanish lesson, hoping Phyllis was a fan of the energy saving setting and the machine would flip in to sleep mode again very soon.

Lucille peaked through the crack she had left at the door. On the doorstep she witnessed the two women share a somewhat awkward but not ingenuine hug.

“You have been a really good friend Phyllis,” Bernie said quietly, “and I will use my journey wisely to consider everything.” And with that Bernie Mannion turned around, an overfull backpack attached to her shoulders and dragging her battered suitcase behind her and headed down Poplar-on-Tweaven High Street, towards the war memorial where the bus always stopped.

#A candy-coloured clown they call the sandman, tiptoes to my room every night.#

Chirped out of the iPhone perched precariously on the edge of the Crown pool table.

“That bloody song Tim, I keep thinking that’s your old man’s phone,” snapped Jack Smith at his friend and pool opponent.

“Leave it out mate, that was my mam’s favourite song, as you damn well know.”

Tim Turner quickly picked up the offending article and dropped it back onto the pool table just as fast, as if it had stung him. Jack stared at him in disbelief,

“You just put me off my bleeding stroke Turner,” “Oh my God Jack!” Tim yelled, “It’s her, it’s only just her, Oh my God.“

#Just to sprinkle stardust and to whisper. “Go to sleep everything is alright.”#

“Tim, answer it before it goes onto message,” Jack pleaded. “Who? Who is she?”

“Lucille Anderson.” Tim whispered staring down at a photo he had discreetly taken and saved to his contacts of Lucy and the alpacas.

#In dreams I walk-# The Big O suddenly came to an abrupt end.

“He..hello.”

“Tim, Tim is that you?”

“I-I think so.”

Jack tapped the cue on his forehead several times in disbelief and begged his pal to keep cool with his eyes.

“Tim I am trying to find your dad,” the lad’s heart sank ever so slightly.

“He he has switched his mobile off and the pub phone is on answer, he has not been too well, since erm-”

“I did wonder if something was wrong. I am not sure if I am doing the right thing but I just felt led to ring you.”

“Oh yeah, that’s, that’s defo the right thing Lucy. Where are you? It sounds like your down a well. Are you in trouble Lucy? I will be right there, where?”

“I am in Phyll’s bathroom, she doesn’t know I am calling you. Bernie has left Poplar, she is on her way to London. Something doesn’t feel right and I had to let you know, you and your dad.”

After Lucille had hung up, Tim starred at his phone unable to quite comprehend what had just happened.

“So?” enquired an impatient and less than impressed Jack, who was waiting for his friend to take his turn at the Pool table.

“Dad, where is Dad? We have to find him.” Tim suddenly snapped into action.

“He is where he always is this time of day when he gets all sad,” Jack answered matter of fact. “Sat upstairs in his pants watching One Man and His Dog.”

Tim grabbed the tea mug out of his father's hands, the Buckle’s Brewery mug landed on the floor and Paddy cursed. He looked bewildered at his son.

“Dad, Bernie is leaving, we have to stop her,” Tim was firing on all cylinders. Paddy folded his arms and sank back into his worn golden armchair.

“Ah! This dog here, watch her,” Paddy remarked ignoring his son, his attention returning to the sheep dog trials on the telly.

“Dad you have seen this episode a hundred times, Higgins the one of with the waggly tail wins.”

Paddy wore an expression similar to one you might wear, if someone told you a beloved character had died in your favourite drama before the final episode.

“We have to go and get Bernie,” Tim pleaded with his father. “She doesn't want me,” Paddy was belligerent.

“Dad, I don’t give a fu..fig! Lucy has asked for my help and I am not going to let her down.” Tim was livid, ”You might have cocked your life up, but you are not going to screw this up for me.” Tim grabbed his father's car keys and headed for the stairs.

A half dressed Paddy, pushing his shirt into his jeans, caught up with his son as he stalled the vintage MG for the third time. He ushered the boy over the gear stick towards the passenger seat. He tried to start Angela, but she wasn't having any of it. She had been neglected recently and was not in the mood to respond to Paddy’s soothing words.

Tim was about to combust, “Why can’t we have a normal car, a normal home, a normal family, a normal life just like everyone else?”

Paddy was defeated. He admitted to himself Tim was right, why couldn’t they be like everyone else? His stubbornness in keeping Angela on the road, reflected in the same way he kept the Crown going and never considered a different life.That same stubbornness had cost him Bernie, expecting her to change her life for him, never considering it might be him that needed to makes changes.

His son was frantic and Bernie would be at Darlingcliffe Station now spending a weeks wages on an over complicated named coffee, delivered to her in a finger-end charing unrecyclable cup.

Paddy rested his head on Angela’s steering wheel. Tim thumbed absent mindedly through his phone. They weren’t like everyone else, they were alone.

Paddy was awakened from his despair by a firm knock on Angela’s windscreen, “Having a spot of bother there, are we Doc?” PC Noakes’ large grin lifted Paddy’s spirits and even brought a smile to Timothy’s lips.


	24. Road to Nowhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Free drink for everyone who got the “One Man and His Dog” sheepdog trial reference in the previous chapter.
> 
> Your expecting a misty road chapter now aren’t you? Well I will see what I can do Poplar-on-Tweaven style.

**And** **we** **know** **what** **we** **want**. **And** **the** **future** **is** **certain**. **Give** **us** **time** **to** **work** **it** **out**. **(** **Road** **to** **Nowhere** , **Talking** **Heads** **)**

Bernie Mannion stomped down Poplar Back Lane. She had to walk on the tarmac as the rarely used B road didn't qualify for pedestrian pavement and the grass was overgrown on both sides. Fortunately for Bernie's life expectancy the road was rarely busy these days. The new bypass now provided a much quicker route for non-local traffic.

Bernie dragged her suitcase behind her muttering and cursing to herself. She couldn't believe that this was the day the new winter bus timetable had come into operation. The Departa bus company had decided to change all it's timings by 3 minutes to allow for the adverse weather conditions that the final season of the year was predicted to unleash. An extra 180 seconds they were confident was going to make all the difference to the good people of Tweavensides continued punctuality.

Bernie had blamed herself for spending too much time saying goodbye to Phyll, when she saw the backside of the number 717A disappear from the war memorial. She could just make out the poster on the rear asking, "How Am I Doing?" and had a good mind to ring the number provided and tell them exactly how she was doing. Her mobile however, was buried deep in her backpack and she didn't want to waste precious time fiddling for it.

It was Sunday and the next bus to Darlingscliffe would be Sunday, next Sunday. Bernie yanked the heavy case as it lost balance slightly, after hitting a stone on the road and she cursed again. Eventually, she heard the sound of a car in the distance and moved to the side of the road, so far only a tractor and a caravan had passed her. Bernie then heard a familiar noise, well it had been familiar to her when living in London, but not in Poplar. Bernie moved closer into the sidings as the police siren got closer.

The pedestrian was completely confused when the car halted close to her, until she saw that Sergeant Chummy was driving with PC Noakes beside her as expected. What was more confusing was Paddy getting out of the back of the car and running towards her. She dropped the handle of her case.

"Is it Tim? Has something happened to Tim?" She cried in a panic.

Paddy abruptly stopped as if the sound of her voice had suddenly alerted him to the fact he had no idea what to say. Tim waved reassuringly to Bernie from the back of the police car.

Chummy was the one to puncture the awkward silence between the two stood on the road. Coming towards them she announced,

"Shelagh Bernadette Mannion, I am arresting you in the name of the law, I will warn you now that anything you say, may be taken down as evidence and used against you..."

Bernie interrupted, "Chummy are you insane, I am trying to get to..." It was Bernie's turn to be stopped in her tracks as Chummy nodded at Peter and said authoritatively, "Constable, please do the honours."

At that Peter slapped a handcuff on Bernie's left hand. Bernie gasped, Paddy laughed nervously and Tim pressed record on his phone.

Paddy didn't laugh for long as Peter slapped the other end of the handcuffs on his right wrist.

"Patrick Turner I am arresting you in the name..."

"What for, what are the charges!" yelled Paddy half laughing, half furious

"GBH" informed Peter.

"Sorry!" said Paddy and Bernie together.

"Grievous Bodily Harm," explained Camilla.

"Of who?" demanded Paddy.

"Each other," declared Chummy, "Gross serious negligence and lack of due care and attention to each other's hearts, with intent to wound."

Bernie was now looking at her feet, trying to stop the tears. Paddy was making a strange sort of noise in between a snort and a laugh.

Bernie looked up, "I don't understand, this isn't funny. I have a train to catch I am meeting Trixie."

"We know," PC Noakes remarked triumphantly, "We forbid you to leave the county and will need to seize your passport."

"I am not leaving the county and why do you need my passport?" Bernie spat indignantly.

"Your not leaving the county," Paddy interjected.

"No, I am meeting Trixie in York," Bernie explained.

"You're not going to London?" Paddy was beside himself, as well as being unavoidably very close to his partner in crime.

"No, of course not," responded Bernie as if it was obvious. "I am going to York for the day or I was until this circus arrived."

Peter suddenly spoke showing detective potential, "Why all the luggage? For one day, seems rather excessive?"

Bernie looked horrified, "Hymns books they are hymn books, Julia has replaced Saint Presurvus stock and kindly donated these to the mission. I am or was on my way to hand them over at York to Trixie."

"But, Luc.. someone said you were getting the train to London," Paddy still couldn't quite believe Bernie wasn't headed for Kings Cross.

"Yes! The London train that stops at York," Bernie said as if talking to a small child.

"Awkward!" exclaimed Chummy.

Bernie raised her hand, yanking Paddy's involuntarily and causing him to emit a small yelp. She didn't apologise.

"If you would please, unlock me."

"Not so fast Miss," it was acting DCI Noakes again. "Can I just take a look at the contents of your suitcase. Did you pack it yourself?"

Bernie was incensed she could hardly speak, Paddy couldn't make out if Peter was joking or not. Meanwhile Sergeant Chummy was rather flushed and feeling somewhat aroused. Tim was still filming.

"It's open," growled Bernie, "It's from the Save the Pensioner charity shop, the locks broken."

Peter to everyone's disbelief moved towards the suitcase and carefully sprung open the lock. A number of Mission Praise books and a few copies of Hymns Ancient and Modern, fell onto the road.

"Satisfied," snarled Bernie.

Paddy could no longer hide his amusement, he felt for Bernie's indignity, but he couldn't control a smirk at this ridiculous chain of events. Camilla crossed her legs feeling a little bit uncomfortable and very warm for October. Tim kept filming.

"Now if I could just check your backpack?" Peter continued to everyone's amazement.

Paddy wasn't sure what was going on, but whatever it was had surely gone too far. He interjected,

"Peter please, this is too much."

"No, it's fine," reassured Bernie surprisingly. "Go ahead Constable."

Bernie turned so Peter could have access to her haversack. This meant she was now facing Paddy, only a few inches separating them. She stared into his jumper, _it_ _would_ _be_ _this_ _one_ she thought.

Paddy watched PC Noakes over Bernie's too close for comfort shoulder. He could smell coconut and vanilla laced with cola, a hint of baccie with honey overtones and a tinge of perspiration. He fought the urge to move closer. The Constable undid the fastening and peered into Bernie's bursting at the seems bag.

Paddy noticed Peter suddenly change colour and step away from them. Camilla had also noticed and looked concerned. Bernie wore a rather unsettling smirk.

"That's fine, thank you for your cooperation, that will be all," Peter tremoured.

"Whatever is the matter Peter!" Chummy exclaimed heading towards the bag and conducting her own investigation.

"My sweet lord, Bernie why do you have a years supply of sanitary protection in your bag, for a day trip to York? Are you unwell?"

Bernie spun around at that point to Paddy's instant carnal relief and slight physical discomfort to his right wrist. A medium and large tampon hit the tarmac. Tim stopped filming.

"Girls and women on the streets can't afford such luxuries," Bernie spat the last word out like it was porridge. "Val and I and some of the other carers buy a few extra each month to give to the mission and I was going to give them to Trixie, until I was arrested for smuggling hymn books and Tampax." Bernie wasn't smiling now.

Paddy couldn't believe how incredible Bernie actually was and how incredibly stupid he'd been and squeezed her cuffed hand, she shook him off and he again felt incredibly stupid.

"Chummy please," she begged. Bernie's pleas alerted the policewoman back to reality.

"What time are you meeting your friend?"

"11:30 at York station, but it's too late now," Bernie sulked.

"No, it's not we will get you to the station on time," the officer grinned.

Turning to Peter she told him to put Bernie's luggage into the back of the police car. Finally glad that Sergeant Browne had resumed charge, Bernie held out her and in turn Paddy's now rather red wrist for release.

"We will be back in 30 minutes, plenty of time to get you to York with your bounty of goodwill," was the unexpected response.

"What?" Bernie and Paddy exclaimed at once.

"If I were you I would make use of that grit bin by the side of the road as a sort of seat." Chummy pointed to the emergency adverse weather resource in the sidings.

The attached pair stared at the large yellow plastic container in disbelief.

"Half-an-hour, maybe not time for an in-depth heart to heart, but enough to clear the air I should think. Well that's all tickety boo then."

"Bloody marvellous," Paddy muttered under his breath.

With a bright, "Toodle pip," Sergeant Browne returned to the battenberg vehicle she had arrived in. Peter was already inside, they reversed and sped off in the direction they had come with Tim waving enthusiastically from the back of the police car.


	25. True Grit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One more round before last orders. Thank you for joining me.

**If** **I hadn't seen such riches, I could live with being poor. (Sit Down, James)**

Bernie and Paddy trudged over to the big yellow bin marked GRIT and awkwardly sat down. The first few minutes were spent concurring that the county’s police force had seen better days and concocting a strongly worded email, that would be sent to the commissioner the following morning. A thick silence had then settled between them, just as a fine mist also began to settle on the road.

Paddy was the first to break the tension. “Are you really not going to London. Ever?”

“I don’t know about ever Paddy. That actor from Holby is switching on the Oxford Street Christmas lights this year, might go for that. Or I might just go to Leeds Christmas shopping with Val and have cocktails at Harvey Nic’s, to see that bloke from Emmerdale do their lights instead.”

“Bernie,” Paddy was growing impatient.

“I am not going back to London to live, if that’s what you mean, at least not for the present.”

As they sat on the creaky cold salt container. Bernie explained that Phyll had offered her a promotion combining caring and admin and Bernie had accepted. Phyll was also going to lend Bernie money for a deposit on a cottage to let in the village and act as referee and guarantor. The Matron’s dual purpose was to help Bernie finally put down roots in what would be the first home of her own. This would also ensure the cottage wasn't used as a holiday let or commuter retreat by an incomer.

Paddy had stayed silent and took this all in. But eventually couldn’t help himself, “You know you could always come and stay with me and Tim for free. We would love to have you. Tim is crazy about you.”

Bernie sighed, “I think you're confusing me with Lucille. Paddy you are not listening to me, nothing has changed. I am still Bernie.”

Paddy let out a tiny gulp of hesitation. Bernie continued, “I still believe God has a purpose for me and I want more than anything to do his will. I have just come to realize I can do that here in Poplar just as well as in London.”

Paddy found his voice from somewhere, “What changed your mind?”

Bernie paused for a moment and then continued, “You did.” Paddy smiled and then frowned as she continued, “You and Julia and Trixie, I suppose.”

Paddy decided not to interrupt this time, “You were right I was waiting for God to tell me what was required from me in an e-mail or a text, something unmistakable and obvious.”

Paddy shuddered, “Bernie, I am really sorry, if I could take everything I said back I would.” He fiddled with the metal bracelet that was keeping them together.

“You were right though Paddy. Reverend Julia said the same thing, just a little gentler,” she gave Paddy a sly glance, watching his colour change. “She made me realize that God had been talking to me over and over again, I just wasn’t listening.”

Paddy nodded to let her know he was listening, if not quite understanding. “God spoke to me through you,” she was facing Paddy now and he turned to look at her.

He blushed, “Me, are you sure?”

“Yes through you and Phyll, Antonia, Delia and Val and...” 

“Val?” Paddy exclaimed,

“God spoke to you through Val? Are you certain that was God?” Bernie was about to correct him, but found herself taken over by a wave of giggles. Paddy always got lost in her giggle.

“So what did we or rather God say?”

“The fact that I love my job, sorry jobs. That I love the place that I call home and I love the people I spend time with, could be reason enough for me to believe this is where God wants me.”

“That makes sense to me.”

“I will need both jobs if I am to rent now,” Bernie said tentatively. Paddy reassured her that he wanted her back behind the bar at the Crown.

“I won’t be a nuisance, I promise,” he added. 

“I’ve thought a lot about my future recently. I want other things, things I hadn’t dared think about before. A proper home, a family maybe, if that’s even possible for me.” Bernie was lost in her thoughts.

Paddy’s eyes were like saucers, “You said I was moving too fast.”

“I didn’t necessarily mean with you,” Bernie garbled suddenly sprung out of her melancholy, alarmed at Paddy’s response.

Paddy determined not to let this new development in their conversation escape grabbed the moment. “I don’t know what part I play in this future, but I will have something to say if you start having children without me,” he admonished.

Bernie was about to protest but noticed the twinkle in his green eyes and the lopsided sometimes slightly over-confident grin and the giggle won out again. That did it for Paddy, he could no longer suppress his fraught mind and aching heart.

“I will go to church if that will make you happy.”

“Paddy don’t, it won’t make me happy. I didn’t think I was welcome for a while, something else I misheard. Julia has asked for my help and I am pleased to offer it. If you wish to attend to hear me sing or listen to Tim play, then please do, but don’t come to please me.”

“You have told me all about your future. You have told me about your career, your job at the Crown, your new home, your church, your hopes for a family. You haven’t told me about us.”

Bernie shuffled her bottom against the uncomfortable plastic container that Chummy had rather over optimistically ordained as a loveseat for two.

“Paddy about us, I just don’t know if there can be an us.” Bernie eventually confessed, regret edging her fractured voice.

“Bernie of course there can, there already is an us, you can’t change that,” Paddy argued hopefully.

“That’s it nothing has changed Paddy, that’s what I am trying to tell you.” Bernie pleaded with him for some level of understanding.

“Everything has changed, you are staying. I understand things better now. Bernie I will wait forever for you.” The earnestness in his voice nearly broke her, but he had unwittingly in his sincerity hit a nerve.

“That’s just it Paddy you don't believe in forever, so how can you wait that long?” She threw this back at him it seemed out of nowhere.

And Paddy was thrown,“What?”

“I've heard you, talking over the bar, you say ‘when you’re dead, you’re dead’.” Bernie had started now, she couldn’t go back.

“Bernie that’s just an expression, bar banter, you know that.” Paddy really didn’t know how to defend himself.

“You see that’s the difference.” Paddy didn’t see, but let her continue, “I know there is a forever Paddy, I couldn't be more certain of it,” tears started to fall without permission down Bernie’s cheeks, “and the thought of not spending forever with you breaks my heart, even now. How am I going to feel after loving you, living with you for 30 years or more?”

Paddy had been surprised by a lot of things in his life, quite a few of them from behind the bar at the Crown, but he couldn’t remember ever been blindsided like this before. He wanted to tell her he would storm down the gates of heaven and hell to get to her, but he knew she would feel patronized. He went to get up forgetting about his temporary siamese twin for a moment and was dragged firmly back down again.

He felt in his pocket for his vape pen but realized he had left it at home. Even though her hands were shaking Bernie took out her roll-up tin from her pocket with her free right hand and offered it to Paddy. Who flicked it open with his left hand. Bernie rested it on her lap. Paddy took out a paper and held it flat as Bernie filled it with baccie. She put it to her lips and licked the paper, Paddy looked away. She deftly rolled the ciggie with her liberated hand and handed it too Paddy to hold. Freeing her to dig in her pocket for her matches. She pushed the box open and Paddy took out a match. He nervously placed the ciggie between her lips, she tilted the closed box and Paddy struck the match, it lit first strike. Paddy took the flame to the paper and tobacco and Bernie inhaled. She removed the cigarette and handed it to Paddy who took his first drag in over a year.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Paddy eventually said passing the fragile fag back to her, ”Bernadette you are right, I don’t know about forever. I have probably said things that have offended you without realizing.” Instances he had always assumed innocent flashed through his mind.

He considered before continuing, “I am not completely as certain about these things as I was before Marianne died. Stuff happens, coincidences, music, phrases, atmospheres even scents that I can't explain.” He could do with some of Mazz’s magic right now he thought. “But you're right, I can’t promise you forever, but I can promise you right now, right here in Poplar, at the Crown. I can promise you the rest of my life, Bernadette if you would just...”

Bernie interrupted sharply, “Please Patrick, don’t say anything, don’t say anymore. I am not certain I can give you the answer you want.”

The little ciggie moved silently between them, until Paddy found the words,

“I will be honest, I had never considered re-marrying or having more children. I hadn't thought of sharing my life with anyone but Timothy. That was until you came home, until you returned to Poplar. But, you are not the only one who is not certain that I can give you what you think you need Bernadette.”

The roll-up was spent, Bernie stubbed it out on the road with her boot. Way off in the distance emerging through the mist was the faint sound of a police siren becoming clearer and clearer.


	26. Last Orders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Last Orders folks. They will be an epilogue to follow including Thank yous. But for today just enjoy your final round in the Crown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for a few technical issues on first posting these last two chapters. Italics are now firmly in place. Thanks for coping ;)

**And there's certain things that I adore. And there's certain things that I ignore. But I'm certain that I'm yours. (Certain Things, James Arthur)**

Paddy looked around the lounge bar of the Crown. It was exceptionally busy for a Sunday night. Someone had uploaded a video onto You Twit and Paddy’s takings were making up for his humiliation.

“Show the bit with the flying tampons again Val, what music is that?” Lucille Anderson gave out another squeal of excitement and nearly fell off her bar stool.

“It’s erm from a comedy show from the 70’s Lucy,” informed Tim with all the nonchalance he could muster standing so close to Lucille. ”Bit dated now and definitely uncool, but I was trying to capture the irony of the situation combining the melancholy of the moment within a slapstick scenario.” 

Lucille looked at Val for help, “It’s from the Benny Hill Show,” she enlightened.

Paddy glared at the son he had not spoken to for several hours, but both were fully aware a father-son chat was scheduled for after closing-time.

He scanned his world, Chummy and Peter sat in the snug that doubled for a small private dining area sharing a bottle of Jaspers Beck semillon chardonnay 2018 and tucking into Vi’s special Hot Shot Parmo and chunky chips with homemade garlic sauce. Vi had dug out a tea light and lit it placing it between the 2 colleagues much to Paddy’s annoyance and Val’s encouragement.

The Two Loves we’re making there way through a bottle of Prosecco with a 60:40 differential in Delia’s favour. They had made a rare venture away from the farm and the alpacas and were enjoying a game of Knockout Whist with Reverend Tiger Tom and his now quite obviously expecting wife Bobby, both sipping sparkling water. Patsy and Delia were obviously far more experienced at card games and were making a mint in 20 pence pieces from the naive parents-to-be.

Paddy pondered how come Jack who spent 70% of his time working at the Crown actually playing darts and 30% collecting glasses and waiting on. Was currently being creamed by Reggie, who claimed to be a beginner. Jane was gently rubbing a rather weary looking Winnie’s feet as they each sampled one of Val’s Crown Cracktails. Evie moved from table to table on the pretence of catching up with old friends, but Paddy noticed she never moved on without clearing a glass or straightening a beer mat.

Meanwhile Fred had slipped into the kitchen again. He was not there in his official capacity as head of Buckles Breweries, so therefore as a customer was not strictly allowed to enter the kitchen area during food serving times. When Paddy had complained about it to Val, she had dismissed it entirely,

“Vi keeps a few Yorkshire puddings and a bit of crackling back on a Sunday night for Fred, he is doing no harm.”

Reverend Julia, Phyll and Lady Antonia while sipping on their spirits of choice and appropriate mixers and were deep in conversation discussing the village history. Julia seemed desperate to bury roots in the parish she now served and no-one was more happy to help her ground them than Councillor Crane. Lady Antonia was living history and the two ladies from different ends of the religious spectrum, both seemed aware of the need to tap and capture this fading resource.

Thinking about Julia and Phyll’s growing friendship despite their differing world views, Paddy wondered why he was unable to bridge this canyon between himself and Bernie. He would give her anything she asked, but he couldn’t lie to her and that would be exactly what he would be doing if he started attending church and mens group and she would know. 

He looked around at all his friends, the folk from the village, they were all gems, but the real jewel was missing from the Crown tonight.

He felt a warm hand on his arm, “She will be here, she said so.” Val’s voice was soft and lacked that slightly comic tone it usually possessed when she spoke to him. Paddy nodded unconvincingly.

The last train from York would have gotten in ages ago. After being separated by a key and before she had been whisked away courtesy of the local constabulary, he had given her money for a taxi for the return journey. He put it down to expenses as she was needed to complete her shift tonight at the Crown. He knew Bernie would take that obligation seriously, even though they both knew he was just trying to make sure she didn't have an excuse not to come home.

He looked at the oversize clock opposite the bar it was set slightly fast to help with last orders, but she was still late.

The door abruptly flung open and in walked Bernie and out walked Paddy’s nerve. He had set himself up for a fall, he had convinced himself she wouldn’t show. He didn’t know if it was disbelief or relief that made him act like he did. Bernie entered like a welcome summer breeze in a cruel heat, everyone shouted “hellos” and Bernie beamed back.

“You’re late.” If Bernie was a sirocco, Paddy was definitely a brisk North Westerly.

“Everyone knows that clock is fast Paddy,” she giggled, the giggle that usually managed to melt his heart, froze his mood.

“You’re not in uniform either,” 

Bernie was still receiving welcoming words from punters and hadn’t really picked up on Paddy’s tone. She slipped off her jacket and hung it in the small cupboard her and Val used.

“Trixie gave me this T-shirt,” she wiggled in delight, Bernie was a size 8 but the T-shirt still looked a size too small and well washed, it obviously wasn’t new. The faded lilac cotton shirt still had bright red lettering on it breaking up in parts. It read “God’s Love In Action”.

“The uniform policy clearly states black skirt or trousers, white blouse,” recited Paddy.  
Bernie’s eyes flicked straight at Val in a familiar bold red jumpsuit. 

“Sorry Paddy, there is a story about this T-shirt I wanted to tell you later,” Bernie smiled like she was keeping the the most sought after secret in history. Her bright blue eyes flickered reflecting the intense bar lighting and her smile shone. Her hair bouncing around her shoulders in the snug fitting T-Shirt she looked more like Tim’s anticipated love interest than his grumpy father’s. 

Paddy was now too far down the path of discontent to weaken and the sight of Bernie this way just added to his insecurity, “You are already late so there isn’t time for you to change, just remember for next time,” he grunted. As if directed to underline the inconsistency Val pushed between them to get to the till, like a vision in scarlet.

Nothing Bernie did was right, a glass she served had lipstick in a shade only Paddy could perceive on its rim. Her pints needed topping up, her wine measures were too generous. She failed the first come first served rule. The jukebox was too loud, obviously Bernie’s fault, she of course then turned it down to low. The smile of anticipation Bernie wore when she first arrived had been wiped off her face by Paddy’s obvious irritation at her presence and was replaced by a look of confusion and hurt.

Val was the first to crack, “What are you doing? You have pinned for her all day and now she is here, you are pushing her out the door.”

“We are busy, we need to run a tight ship, I can’t afford slackers.”

“Can you afford two new barmaids, “ Val snapped, “This is exactly why I date on-line there is a box you tick to eliminate nads.”

“Sorry?”

“Ads, it eliminates ads, advertisements.”

Paddy rang for last orders even earlier than the big clock suggested. Once everyone had supped up and departed. The kitchen was spotless and Vi had been seen getting into Fred’s van with Reggie in the back. Tim and Jack had gone upstairs to try the video out in different formats. Val had hugged Bernie very tightly and offered to walk her home, but Bernie had declined the offer, she said she would be fine she needed to be alone and clear her head.

The bar was in darkness, Paddy wandered into the beer garden muttering about Jack and glasses not collected. He sat in his regular position and flicked on the heater. A couple of feet away he saw a tiny red light. 

“Bernie?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you had gone home?”

“I was late remember, I am making the time up.”

Paddy snorted, the tiny red glow grew bigger until it was next to him, he took the source from her and inhaled.

“I got you a present from York,” she said as if it had been any other day.

“Chocolate?” said Paddy.

The heater had hit its full height now and was not only shedding heat but light. He could see her the red in her hair enhanced by the complimentary light. Her cheeks were rosy too. She was wearing her glasses, the ones with the thick black frames he preferred. Her contacts must have been bothering her he thought, she had been through a long day. He noticed her eyes did look red or maybe she had been crying. _Because of him_ , Paddy was aware of every snipe, every grunt, every complaint he had sent her way in the last few hours. He hated every word he had said, he despised himself each time he spoke, but he hadn’t been able to stop the self-destructive behaviour that had owned him.

She held out a cheap blue and white striped carrier bag, the type you get from markets. He took it, _please be nice, please be kind,_ he pleaded with himself. Paddy reached inside and felt cold fabric, he pulled out of the bag what looked like a garment. He dropped the bag and flicked out the clothing. It was a T-shirt, an XL T-Shirt, it was brand new, it smelt new, he could actually smell dye or was it ink? _please be nice, please be kind._

“Is it pink?”

“You suit pink.”

“It’s lovely,” _be nice, be kind,_ “I don’t really know if I am the T-shirt type though Bernie, I don’t like my arms exposed too much.”

“Read it.”

He had been trying so hard not too. Be nice, be kind. Big black letters exclaimed God’s Love in Action.

“It’s the same as mine,” Paddy nodded at Bernie’s statement, “I’ve had mine a long time that’s why it’s a little bit worn and shrunk,” she said quietly, “It’s the Mission’s motto.” She looked at him as if he was going to nod in agreement.

“I lent it to Trixie one night for-reasons.” 

Paddy knew exactly why Bernie had given Trixie her T-Shirt following their confessional Alpaca walk in the summer.

“She kept it, Trixie. She said it was the first time someone was nice, someone was kind to her in such a long time and it was the start of things changing for her. She saw God's love in action, for the first time.” 

Paddy took another drag of Bernie’s roll-up and began to wonder what they were smoking.

“That’s great that really is Bernie, but why have you bought me a pink T-shirt?”

Bernie took a long drag on her fag and handed it to Paddy implying he could finish it.

“Trixie gave it back to me today to remind me of that story and I needed reminding. I yet again needed to hear that still small voice.” She was somewhere else for a moment then continued, “We decided to get one made for you because you are God’s Love in action for me, just as I was for Trixie. I was instrumental in changing Trixie’s life by a small gesture of kindness and you have been instrumental in changing mine by so many small acts of kindness.”

Paddy puffed on what was left of Bernie’s sad looking cigarette. As Bernie kept talking.

“When I am with you I feel the light of the world brightens my day. When you look at me, especially when you think I don't notice you looking, I begin to understand the true meaning of unconditional love. You see deep into my soul and still only ever see the best of me.” 

Bernie had hold of Paddy’s hands now her fingers running over the rawness on his right wrist damaged by the metal cuff.

“God has placed this love in my heart for a reason and at this moment I don't know what that reason is, but I know I can’t turn my back on love. I can only embrace it and see if it grows and follow where it leads me.”

Paddy had somehow come off worse from the unexpected uniting earlier that day, probably because Bernie was more animated and gave much less consideration to her partner in crime’s welfare.

“I have always known His love spiritually, because of you I now know it experientially.”

Bernie raised Paddy’s hand to her lips and administered healing kisses to the sore bits. Paddy wasn’t sure if he actually understood everything Bernie had said, but he knew he probably would in time, perhaps. 

He wondered, had he understood everything that made up Marianne? Absolutely not. Did he completely understand his rapidly maturing son? Not really. Did it make a difference to his love for them that he didn’t? Not one bit.

He did know loving Bernie was easy; she was adorable, but living and working with Bernie everyday that was a different thing altogether, that might not always be easy. Bernie didn’t come with an instruction manual and had lots of hidden complex features. It wasn’t easy for her either, as she had made very clear, but for now at least she seemed willing to try. She had found a way to reconcile what she felt with what she believed and it was up to him to not let her down.

Bernie’s lips had somehow made their way to his, when they finally came up for air, Bernie’s face was as russet as the fallen autumn leaves Jack had failed to clear from around their feet. Her eyes shone as bright as the Hunter’s moon that had chased the last of the October mist away to shine down on Poplar-on-Tweaven, a village protected by the Cleveland Hills close to the North Yorkshire Moors. The heart of the village was an old 18th century coaching inn called the Crown and it’s heart had never beat as strongly as that night under that Hunters Moon in that dark northern sky.

Paddy gently kissed Bernie behind her right ear and then the left and whispered,

“I am still not wearing that bloody pink T-shirt.”


	27. Epilogue: Closing Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has taken time to read. I must admit I was very nervous at first, but it has been lovely to share this special AU world with you. Thank you for all the lovely feedback and to everyone who left kudos.
> 
> Many thanks to @tangledupinthemist without who there would'nt be a Crown and helped me lay down the foundations to our favourite inn.  
> Also @H4T08 for encouraging me to post on here and continue when I fell off my bar stool.

**I know who I want to take me home. Take me home. (Closing Time, Semisonic) ******

********

********

Bernie looked at the photo board hung on the stone wall. Reverend Julia Lewis smiled down at her. Underneath Julia grinned Youth Minister Tom Hereward and next to him, Pastoral Care Worker Bobby Hereward. Below the couple there were two photographs that brought a smile to Bernie’s face, Choir Leader Lucille Anderson next to Organist and Musical Director Tim Turner. The bottom image made the viewer scrunch her nose up. Bernie really didn’t like her photograph taken, she would have to put up with it today though, people would expect photos. She looked again at Church Administrator Bernadette Mannion and allowed herself a wee smile, she would have to remember to alter that label later. 

She could hardly believe that just over a year ago she had stood in this same church vestibule behind her father’s coffin. Phyllis and Paddy that day had stood close by and followed her down the aisle and then sat either side of her in the front pew. Today Phyllis was already seated and not in black, but a fitted fuchsia two-piece and matching hat with a nervous looking feather. 

Paddy wasn’t sat, he was stood at the front continually looking back down the aisle. Bernie moved to the door to watch him, skipping back quickly when she thought he had seen her. She had been quite adamant he wasn’t to see her dress until the service. She had no idea Chummy was such a gifted seamstress. Not only had she made the simple brides outfit, but the bridesmaid dress too. Bernie thought if Chummy ever quit the force she could work for Patience Mount. The ex-model just happened to be looking fabulous in a vintage, 70’s Jo Lester, chartreuse trouser suit, sat next to of course Delia, in a very pretty early Dior, polka-dot dress fastened at the waste with a scarlet belt. Bernie not for the first time wondered if Delia Busby would ever age. 

“Bernie, don’t slouch. You have a terrible habit of stooping forward.” Bernie sighed, of course there was someone already working for Patience Mount, Trixie Franklin.

“You need to hold your bouquet just so.” Trixie demonstrated to Bernie’s annoyance.

“Oh go gently Trixie, Bernie looks splendid, as do you.” Chummy’s familiar voice did as it was intended silencing the self appointed wedding coordinator and reassuring her friend.

“You look lovely too Chummy,” Bernie offered.

“She certainly does, you both do” agreed a rather abashed Trixie.

“I must say the Doc scrubs up rather well too,” continued Chummy.

“Really I hadnae noticed.”

Trixie and Chummy giggled 

“You haven’t taken your eyes off the end of that aisle since you came in,” corrected Trixie.

“That’s not true,” Bernie protested. 

The teasing was broken up by the arrival of Reverend Lewis, she rarely wore her religious garments and was often seen without her dog collar in shirt and jeans. Today she was in full regalia.

“Here is someone else looking rather resplendent,” admired Chummy.

“Well it is a special occasion is it not,” responded the vicar. She smiled and asked, “Are we ready ladies?”

Chummy and Bernie repeated, “Ready.” Trixie started fiddling now with Chummy’s bouquet. 

“Of for heaven's sake Pippa Middleton give it a rest will yer,” barked the Scot.

Chummy coughed, Trixie sighed, Bernie blushed and Julia winked.

The vicar made her way down the aisle followed by Trixie who dodged in next to Val and her plus one, who looked a lot like Conrad. Bernie wondered if she had been through all the prospective Mr. Rights and had now started again. They sat behind Phyllis, Evie, and Lady Keville in an original Rene Hubert, tailored grey suit with a maxi skirt and matching dove grey hat. Antonia was constantly turning to look for the bridal party.

Jack came in from outside the church suited and booted with a rose freshly cut from the Crown wall. 

“I don’t think there is anyone else to come,” said the usher. He made his way down the aisle and sat on the right next to the other usher, Reggie. He was also looking equally dapper next to Violet in a rather marvellous cream hat setting off her matching lime dress and coat.

Paddy was sharing a joke with Tim, whilst Bernie wondered how he could look so relaxed, since her tummy was churning. She wanted to enjoy every moment because she knew in less than an hour she would be walking back down the same aisle on Paddy’s arm after signing the register, with her name next to his. 

Suddenly Bernie found an outlet for her nerves, to sign they would need a pen. That had always been her job even in her dad’s day. To make sure the fountain pen was full and the ink well topped up. But of course that had been the last thing on her mind this morning. But what if no-one had thought to fulfill her role? What if they sat down to sign the register and there wasn’t a pen? She looked at Chummy, she wouldn’t bother her, she would think she was crazy worrying herself silly about such an insignificant detail at a time like this. 

Bernie forgot her fear as Bobby Hereward rushed past apologising profusely with baby Hereward in her arms revving up to outdo the choir. Chummy and Bernie both begged her not to leave but Bobby wouldn’t hear of it. A concerned new dad looked on from his place in the choir.

“Oh well,” said Chummy, “Poor thing has probably seen more than her share of weddings being a minister's wife, she probably nipped the little bean.”

“Chummy that’s terrible,” laughed Bernie. 

At that Fred finally appeared dressed like the boys, “Sorry ladies to keep you waiting, not sure that stoppy back last night was a good idea now. I’ve got brewers bum this morning.”

“Fred!” Exclaimed the girls together. 

“Well I hope you are the only one, I wasn’t too happy about that little get together last night. You already had a stag do in Blackpool, there was no need,” Bernie reprimanded.

“There was every need, what’s the use of having a pub and a brewery and not taking advantage.”

Chummy ever the peacemaker, “No harm done I am sure.”

“Shall we?” she added.

“We shall,” said Fred and offered his arm 

Bernie took her place and on cue, Lucille started her rigorously trained choir. The congregation got to its feet with a few sly smiles and giggles at the unlikely wedding march. Paddy looked down the aisle for Bernie he leaned over and whispered to Peter, 

“She looks beautiful.”

Of course he was looking beyond the bride to the bridesmaid following her friend down the aisle. When Peter turned and looked he followed everyone’s eyes to Camilla in a classic cream two piece wedding outfit and a beautiful bouquet of fresh pink and white camellias. Only his Best Man had his eyes fixed on the Bridesmaid. 

Timothy seemed to be enjoying playing, _My Special Angel _, rather than Handel. Apparently Chummy and Peter were both Mad Men fans.__

____

____

Paddy winked at Bernie who mouthed something at him. He presumed it was _rings _so tapped his top pocket and nodded. Bernie shook her head and mouthed again. Paddy mouthed back confused _pen? _Bernie nodded. Paddy felt in his inner pocket he did indeed have a pen, he nodded back and Bernie’s face lit up with relief. Paddy kept staring with a somewhat bemused expression.Yep, he thought with Bernie you never quite know what to expect.____

_____ _

_____ _

Bernie was so transfixed on Paddy she nearly went the wrong way and forgot to collect Camilla’s bouquet. She slid in next to Phyll in her sapphire blue silk bridesmaids dress with the sweetheart neckline. Trixie lent forward and whispered, “Be you next.” Val couldn’t control a snigger.

Bernie never swore in church and chose to ignore her. Phyllis whispered “whisht!” to those behind her.

Reverend Julia stood in front of the couple letting everyone know where their focus should be. “It’s-“ she began, 

“Time Ladies and Gentlemen, please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NO SPOILERS PLEASE but ALL feedback welcome and appreciated as always.
> 
> I wanted to write a modern day AU where everything was taken away from the characters apart from their essence and the essence of the Turnadette love story. A young religious woman who struggles to come to terms with her feelings and what might be God’s plan for her. I didn’t want her to be goody-two shoes because I don’t think Sr Bernadette/Shelagh is. She does have character flaws like we all do, but her faith does motivate her.
> 
> That is why I am over the moon that this fic has been accepted by readers, who I know themselves have a faith. That they could relate to Bernie’s struggle means I succeeded in what I set out to do.
> 
> Watch out for the Crown Stoppy Backs. (After hours one shots)


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